Into the Abyss
by Laerkstrein
Summary: -POST-TDK- When the Joker abruptly disappears, Harley believes that Batman is behind it. Oblivious to the danger he's in, Bruce assists his childhood friend, Anna Sanders, whose young daughter has suddenly gone missing. Without Rules: Part II. -COMPLETE-
1. Nostalgia

**Disclaimer:** All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on Chris Nolan's characters in _The Dark Knight_. I only own my characters and my plot.

**Into the Abyss**

**Chapter 1: **Nostalgia

**A/N:** Sequel to _Mindless Majority, _and the second installment of my Post-TDK trilogy. Dedicated to Heath Ledger, the mastermind behind _The Dark Knight's _Joker.

**Music:** _More Than A Memory_ by _Hoobastank_

* * *

Anna Michelle Sanders paced across the kitchen floor of her apartment. Her jet-black hair falling into her eyes only to be brushed aside every few steps. A sigh escaped her lips as she glanced at the clock. It was only six-thirty. She still had another half-hour before her daughter Amy came home from her dance class that was held for two hours each day after school. But as of late, being away from Amy for extended periods of time worried Anna.

Giving herself a mental smack, Anna ceased her nervous pacing and made her way to one of the two bedrooms down the hall from the kitchen. She pushed the door open with more force than necessary and slowly walked inside. Kneeling on the floor beside her bed, she reached underneath it and swiftly withdrew a small cardboard box that had been taped shut. She stood up, setting the box gently on the bed, and reached into the nightstand by her bedside and pulled a box-cutter from the cluttered depths of the top drawer. Carefully, she pulled the cap from the box-cutter and began slicing through the tape that held the box shut.

When the tape had been cut, the flaps of the box opened with a silent pop, and Anna rummaged through the contents until she found what she wanted. She withdrew a tattered black notebook that had scribbles on the inside of the front cover. Practically invisible beneath the various scribbles, was her name, written in bold black marker. Anna thumbed through the pages, nostalgically reading through the various stories, songs, and poems that she had written just after being accepted to Gotham City University.

The memories of GCU caused her eyes to water slightly. She blinked back the tears that began to form, and continued to flip through the pages of her notebook. She turned to the middle of the notebook, where she had written about certain events that had deeply impacted her life.

One of the pages, she noticed, was wrinkled and stained with dark red ink. It seemed to have been warped by water, and the ink, that had once been so perfectly aligned, streaked down the page. Her eyes flew across the page as she stared at the photos. All those good memories... ruined.

Anna soon found that her eyes were filled with tears and that several of them had made their way down her cheeks. Ignoring the moisture on her face, Anna emptied the box beside her on the bed, and sifted through the contents. Several photographs, notes, and drawings soon covered a large portion of the bed, leaving little room for Anna to sit. She dug through the photographs until she came upon one of two young children: a boy and a girl.

The boy appeared to be younger than the girl, with short dirty blond hair that stuck up in small tufts all over his head. The girl had long black hair that was tied into an unkempt ponytail, and her arm was draped over the boy's small shoulder, keeping him in a one-armed hug.

Anna stifled a sob and turned the picture over to read the date. _Summer of 1988._

As she stared glumly at the photo, she murmured, "What in God's name happened to you, Jack?"

* * *

Please review.


	2. Muse

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics. The characters used in this fic (except Harley) are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I only own my plot and my characters.

**Chapter 2: **Muse

**A/N: **On with the show.

**Music:** _Nothing Left of Me _by _Ben Moody  
_

* * *

Her thirst for blood would never be sated until she had taken her revenge upon Gotham's Dark Knight. After all, she believed him to be the one to blame for her suffering as of late. The dark shadow of a man had taken her newfound hope away from her, and he would pay. She would ensure her vengeance by taking everything he held dear. By her hand, he would lose it all. Home, friends, loved ones, Gotham, and eventually, his life.

Gotham would know and fear her name. They would flee the streets with fearful shrieks when her voice echoed across the once great city. They would cling to what little hope they had, and pray for the day that the dark claws of death would release them from her reign of terror. The havoc she would wreak upon Gotham would be remembered for years to come, and the future generations would curse not only the names of herself and the Joker, but the Batman as well. They would see the true colors of their so-called "knight," and she would be the one to reveal him for what he truly was:

A murderer bearing the flag of righteousness.

The vixen's silent muse was soon drowned out by choked sobs. She wrapped herself in the coat he had left behind, and steadily drifted off into a deep slumber, with his name on her lips.

"Jack... Jack..."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

He had watched her every move with his dark eyes. Why was he staring? Did he have some twisted obsession with her? Did she know him from somewhere? She failed to answer any of her own questions, for she simply didn't know how to. All she knew was that his constant staring was making her very uncomfortable.

Once she had finished her beer, she sprung from her seat and quickly walked out of the bar. Harleen didn't look back to see if he was following. She just kept up her pace and stared straight forward. Just a few blocks from her apartment near GCU, Harleen glanced in the large window of a shop as she passed, noting that the man from the bar was following her. Harleen nervously walked into a nearby book store and plucked a magazine off the shelf nearest the window. Holding the magazine in front of her face, she peeked over the top and was startled to see that the man was standing outside.

What the hell was his deal? She'd seen him at the bar every day that week, and each time, he'd stared at her.

Harleen wasn't one to judge people by their appearances, but she was terrified of the stranger who had been watching her all this time. Just how long had he been watching her? Days? Weeks? Months? The horrified woman took her time in the book store, hiding behind shelves and magazines for about an hour and a half before he finally left. With a sigh of relief, Harleen purchased the few novels she had been meaning to read, and swiftly walked out of the book store, dashing down the street to catch a cab.

When she arrived back at her apartment, she flung the door open with far too much force, leaving the imprint of the doorknob in the wall that had suffered the impact. Having dumped her things on the floor, Harleen rushed into the bathroom and threw on the faucet, splashing cold water on her flushed face. She sighed heavily when the phone began to ring. She flipped off the bathroom light, having thrown a wet washcloth around her neck as she walked into the kitchenand answered the phone.

"Hello?" she said, rummaging through the cupboards.

The other end was silent except for a mysterious clicking and the sound of muffled laughter. Fear had overpowered her, but curiosity had seeped in as well. What had that sound been? Was it a threat? A game? Harleen sighed and started to put the phone down when a voice came from the other end in a near-silent hiss.

"You'll come to me... Someday..."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

She awoke with a start, tears falling from her crystalline blue eyes. She stood up and walked across the hall to her room, slamming the door behind herself. Glancing around, she realized that she hadn't been in her own room since she had arrived at the hideout the first time. She fished through the clothes that sat on the bed, hoping to find her Harlequin outfit.

It was sitting at the bottom of the pile. She pulled it out from under the other clothes and pulled it on. Reaching under the bed, she found the boots that she had worn not too long ago in college. She strapped them on, pleased that they fit and matched well with her red and black outfit. The dark coat returned to her shoulders as she let it fall over her uniform, something in one of the pockets bumping against her side.

Harley fished through the pockets and withdrew Jack's knife. The blood stuck to the edges of the blade as she opened it, as if he'd never once bothered to clean the damn thing. But that couldn't have been the case, because... it was _his _blood she found herself staring at. Tears pricked her eyes again as she recalled the dreadful night she had found it in the alleyway. Hadn't there been tire marks on the sidewalk, and bullets in the wall?

She couldn't remember. All she saw was the nonexistent memory of his corpse lying there, bleeding.

Swiping at her eyes, Harley pocketed the blade and headed to the window. She sat on the windowsill and pried the sticky window open before jumping out and landing evenly on her feet. Eight stories really wasn't all that far down for someone of her gymnast background. The wind howled and whistled, causing her to pull the coat tightly around her body as she trudged through the darkened streets of Gotham, inwardly cursing her hated enemy.

* * *

The flashback will be detailed later on.


	3. Turmoil

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics. The characters used in this fic (except Harley) are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I only own my characters and my plot.

**Chapter 3: **Turmoil

**A/N: **Twist and turn.

**Music:** _Even In Death_ by _Evanescence_

* * *

Anna, overcome with pain, sunk to her knees and hit the floor, scattering the photographs she had held in her hands. The tears flowed from her shimmering eyes like a flood, unceasingly running down her face, only to drop, just like her heart. She pulled herself up and began gathering the photographs and other memories together to replace them in the box. It was best, she then decided, not to look back at the past.

At least until she could contain her emotions.

She swept her notebook and a few photos to the side, shoving the rest of the objects back into the box. Sealing it once again with tape, Anna pushed it back under the bed with a foot. She grabbed the notebook and photos that she had set aside and made her way back to the kitchen, closing her bedroom door behind her.

As she entered the kitchen, she heard the screeching of brakes from outside. Glancing out the window, Anna spotted the dark blue Mercedes that dropped off Amy from dance class each week. The child that hopped out of the car was a tiny girl with sandy blond hair that came down to her little shoulders. It was Amy.

Anna walked to the front door and pulled it open, waiting impatiently for Amy to come bounding into her arms from the elevator. The elevator doors down the hall opened, and Amy stepped out, a wide grin on her face. She spotted her mother and came, as expected, bounding down the hall and into Anna's arms.

"Mommy!"

Anna swept Amy up into a tight hug, carrying her into their apartment. Amy hopped down and promptly began skipping across the room to the couch, and plopped her little self in front of the television, eagerly awaiting her afternoon snack. Upon gathering up the treat, Anna took a seat beside her daughter, handing her a small can of grape soda and a plate of cheese and crackers.

"How was school and dance class, Amy?" she said, watching as Amy's eyes found the cartoons on the screen. "Did you have fun?"

Amy glanced at her mother before stuffing a large piece of cheese in her mouth. "It was okay," Amy said, her voice slightly muffled from the cheese. "Jenny and me played on the swings at recess, and then we ate lunch under the big tree by the jungle gym..."

The little girl suddenly trailed off, slowly reaching for another piece of cheese. Anna's eyes softened and she pulled Amy onto her lap. She needed to have Amy's attention if she was ever going to learn anything about her daughter's life. Best to start early on, the way she saw it.

"Amy, tell mommy what happened," she said, planting a kiss on the five-year-old's cheek. Amy remained silent and continued staring at the television, watching _Lilo and Stitch _on _Disney Channel. _Anna set Amy back on the couch, deciding to give her some time alone, and took a seat at the kitchen table where she had set her notebook and the photographs.

Quietly, Anna felt herself being drawn back into the past as she flipped through the fading pages of the notebook, writing over some of the more weathered words. She had told herself that it was best to avoid the past, and focus solely on the future. On Amy's future. Amy was what mattered most in her life, not the past. That part of her life was gone and set in stone, immune to change. But the future was ripe and for the taking.

Anna suddenly felt a tug on the sleeve of her shirt, and turned to see Amy beside her, clutching something behind her back. Before she could ask, Amy climbed onto her lap and withdrew her hand clutching an old photograph. "Mommy, who is this?"

A soft sigh escaped Anna's lips as she stared into the picture. There she had stood, happy, alongside a tall, handsome man with sandy blond hair, a shade or two darker than Amy's. His eyes were a brilliant green that seemed to flash from under that tousled, wild hair. His arm was draped over Anna's shoulder, holding her close, a genuine smile on his face.

_It's him, _she thought, gently taking the photo from Amy's grasp. She stared into his eyes, allowing herself to be lost in her memories again, watching them run through her head as if they were part of a movie. Anna glanced toward the open window and swore she saw him standing there, leaning against the wall with that same bright smile.

"Daniel..."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

She snapped her head up from her desk, with almost enough force to cause whiplash, when the teacher called her name.

"Anna, you will be working with Daniel Sanders on the project," he said with a nod. "All right, class. Your final projects will be due in two weeks, and there will be no exceptions."

Anna's jaw very nearly popped off, sending her gaze to the back of the room. Oh, she knew Daniel, all right. The smarmy bastard who had ever-so-kindly keyed her car during the volleyball game the semester before. Thanks to his "genius," she'd been forced to spend extra money to get the car repainted. She sat there bitterly, watching as the idiot continued drawing in his notebook.

She then turned to her teacher, wishing she could punch the hell out of him for setting her up with a dick like Daniel. "Mr. Kelton, you can't be serious. Me and Daniel?"

Mr. kelton simply crossed his arms and nodded. "I'm sorry, Anna, but you two are the only ones without partners for this project. Whatever problems you two may have with each other need to be resolved. I expect that your presentation will be extraordinary as usual," he said, walking back to his desk.

Great. He'd pulled the "your work will be extraordinary" card. Anna groaned loudly and dragged herself to the desk beside Daniel's at the back of the room. "Listen, the sooner we get this finished, the sooner we can go back to hating each other," she muttered, slamming her textbook on the desk.

Daniel merely rolled his eyes and sighed, setting his pencil between the pages of his notebook to mark his place. She, quite simply, had glanced at the notebook to avoid looking at Daniel, and was surprised to see that he had drawn an elaborately realistic sketch of a girl.

"Did you draw that?" she gaped at the drawing, unable to tear her eyes from it. "That's..."

He nodded, trying to balance an eraser on his nose. "Yeah. It's not done yet. I still have to add more shades and blend it in. I left the rest of my pencils at home, so I'm just doing the minimal work right now."

Anna took a closer look at the piece, realizing that the girl looked... like her. Awestruck, she glanced from Daniel to the notebook and back to Daniel. "Is... is that me?" she managed to choke.

Daniel's face flushed and he stared at the floor. "Yeah, but I..."

"Oh, Daniel," Anna said, really looking at him for the first time. She noticed that his bright green eyes seemed to glitter from beneath his stupid, messy hair. She had been transfixed by the sudden realization. The idea that she'd never really looked at him before. He was hypnotic, everything she had ever dreamed of in her childhood "happily ever after." The kind of dream that people had always said to be "nothing more than a cheap fantasy for kids."

She couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Anna," he said, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you... The truth is... I don't really hate you... I like you... a lot..."

His words stunned her, and she felt as though she were about to pass out. It was as if he had read her like a book with large font. How was it that, after so many years of battling it out on the playground and planting golf balls in lockers, they suddenly could look at one another without the sudden urge to vomit?

"You like me?"

He nodded and tore the page from his notebook, pulling off the stray edges. "I was hoping to finish this before you saw it, but now that you already know, I want you to have it," he said, scribbling his name on the back of the paper and handing it to her.

Anna took the page, staring at what she thought to be the most beautiful piece of art she had ever seen. And then she knew that deep inside, she cared for him, too.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

Three years later, the happy couple sat side by side Daniel's father's old Camaro, laughing and teasing each other as they drove. Anna held his hand, watching the water as they sped by. It seemed to glitter in the moonlight, even when struck by the droplets of rain. She closed her eyes, listening to the rain hit the windshield, drumming out the beginning notes to nature's very own lullaby.

The scent of the fresh rain filled her senses and she squeezed Daniel's hand. It was still hard for her to believe that she had ended up marrying him even after the day he told her he loved her; when they had been partnered up in Senior year for their Physics project.

The two of them were happier than they had been working together in school after that fated day. Anna thought about the new life growing inside her, hoping that their child would be every bit as perfect as her husband. The world was just so perfect now. She had found the light of her life, and had escaped the horrors of her home life, even if it were a temporary measure. The city outside her window began to twist and blur from the rain and her own weariness.

Breathing a contented sigh of relief, Anna drifted off to sleep with her head leaning against the window.

She slept soundly, her partially conscious mind still able to feel the warmth of his hand in hers, and smell the sweet cologne that, she insisted, made him very manly. It was peaceful within her mind, and Anna was filled with dreams of the future where she would be raising their children, watching them grown, and kicking them out of the house when they went off to college. Finally, they would be alone together. Able to live out the remainder of their days in peace.

And, at death's door, they would die in, clasped in each other's arms.

Her world, the world she had so dearly dreamed of, came to a crashing halt when Daniel's horrified voice called her name: "Anna!"

She woke with a start and found that the front end of the car had been smashed by a semi. The windshield had shattered, and slivers of glass lay scattered across her lap. Anna tried to move, but found that her leg was caught between the seat and the crushed dashboard of the car. Frantic, she clawed at her seat belt, unsnapping it before the realization of the situation finally slapped her across the face.

A sickening moan reached her ears, causing her to turn her attention to the broken windshield. There, covered in glass, blood, and bathed in the semi's headlights, was Daniel lying, on his back, across the crumpled hood of the car, his blood mingling with the rain. Anna, eyes wide, turned to the driver's side, shocked to see that his seat belt had given out in the crash. She let out a shrill scream, trying to claw her way out onto the hood, ignoring the pain in her leg.

He rolled, gasping in pain, onto his stomach, using his arms to drag himself closer to her. His once shimmering hair was damp and caked with blood. A large gash had made itself at home just above his left eye, spewing blood down his face, finally dripping onto the slick hood of the car, only to be soaked up by his white shirt. Anna screamed in terror as he slid onto the protruding shards of glass that had remained in the frame of the windshield.

"You can't give in," he gasped, reaching for her hand. "You _can't... Live_, Anna..." With his last, shuddering breath, he hissed, "Love you..."

A horrid cry escaped her lips as she watched Daniel's body go limp. She screamed and cried, trying to slip her hand into his as she began praying to God to save his life. Suddenly, she felt sick and dizzy, and found herself falling to the ground and, eventually, into darkness.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

"Mommy? Mommy, who is he?" Amy insisted, shaking her mother's arm. "Mommy, tell me!"

Anna came back from her nightmare, flinching at Amy's touch. She glanced down, noting that her daughter had a frightened look on her face as she stared at her mother.

"Who is he, Mommy?" she repeated.

Anna wiped her eyes and hugged Amy close. "Amy, that's Daddy."

The little girl stared at Anna with her bright blue eyes. "What happened to him, Mommy? Did he go somewhere?"

"Yes," Anna choked. "Daddy went somewhere... somewhere far away..."

* * *

Sad, yet meaningful.


	4. Descent

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics. The characters used in this fic are based on the characters in The Dark Knight (except Harley). I only own my plot and my characters.

**Chapter 4: **Descent

**A/N: **Nothing interesting to say...

**Music:** _Let You Down_ by _Three Days Grace_

* * *

A dark cloud hung over Gotham, soaking the city with an icy rain. Several people ran past Harley, all of them holding newspapers, coats, or umbrellas over their heads to keep dry. But Harley kept walking, oblivious to the sheet of moisture that pelted her. She didn't know how long she had been walking, and she didn't care. All she knew was that she had sworn to kill Batman, even at the cost of her own life. With a vow like that, she couldn't back out.

If needed, she would go to the end of the Earth to kill the bastard that took Jack from her.

As Harley neared the bridge that led across the harbor to the wreckage of Arkham Asylum, the rain fell harder, soaking her to the bone. She shuddered slightly and walked into an alley and under a fire escape. The metal platform above her head shielding her from most of the rain.

She leaned boredly against the brick wall of the alley, angry and tired of everything. What was there to live for? Gotham's so-called "knight" had taken everything from her in an instant. What purpose was there for her to exist in a world where she was alone?

_Stupid man,_ she thought. _You just had to ditch me... I hate you._

Harley stepped out from under the fire escape and glared at the thundering sky. "Why did you leave me here, you bastard?" she screamed, reaching for the switchblade in the coat pocket. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

It shot out of the handle with a click as Harley raised the weapon above her head, closing her eyes. _I'll be with you soon, Jack,_ she thought, bringing the glinting blade down towards her chest. _You stupid ass!_

There was a loud crack of lightning, and Harley opened her eyes to see a gloved hand holding the blade in front of her. Without so much as a thought, she let out a scream, only to be cut off by a hand over her mouth. She twisted and struggled, but the grip remained. Harley felt the tip of the blade as it was dragged along the side of her collar bone.

"What are you _ thinking_, wandering around here in the dead of night? Something. Could. _Happen._"

Her heart jumped and she rolled her eyes. Only one ass could be so annoying. The tight grip around her vanished, and she spun around finding herself looking into Jack's dark eyes. She stared at him bitterly, having already half a mind to slap him stupider than the grin on his freaking face. Odds were that she'd get away with it, too, considering the hell he'd so happily put her through.

"You _suck_!" she shouted, reminiscent of a spoiled teenager. "What the hell were _you _thinking, ditching me like that? I thought that that over-sized flying rodent had knocked your freaking head off!"

A laugh. "You actually thought he took _me _out? Harley, I thought you _knew _better," he said, smirking at her ridiculous expression.

Harley dropped her gaze to the ground, her hands balled into fists at her sides, shaking. "You freaking bastard!" In a fit of rage, Harley rushed at Jack and pushed him against the wall. "What the hell were you thinking, worrying me like that? You scared me to death! I can't believe you would do something so-"

"Low?" he asked, finishing her thought. He chuckled. "It was necessary, Harley. I mysteriously vanish for a while, and Gotham lowers its guard, making it easier for me to draw out Batman with my joyous little games."

Harley bit her lip. "Don't change the damned subject! I don't give a shit about your games, Jack! I..." She was cut off by the sound of police sirens in the near distance. Harley glanced out into the street to be sure there weren't any patrol cars before returning her attention to Jack. "What in God's name did you do?" she shrieked, fighting the urge to kick him. He shrugged, and Harley duely noted the blood staining his sleeve. "You didn't... For fuck's sake, Jack! Can't you lie low for five minutes?"

"I _was _lying low!" he said, imitating her tantrum. "I've been bored to death for the last two weeks, waiting for the right time to send Gotham back into hell. Is that such a bad thing?" he chuckled, pocketing his knife.

"If we're standing around out here in the dead of night, then yes!" Harley grabbed his arm and tried pulling him out of the alley.

"No, no, Harley, we don't have to go _that_ way," he said, leading her in the opposite direction. "There's someone we need to... _visit _first."

When she saw the streetlamps at last, there was an empty patrol car beneath them, two bloody officers lying on the ground. She didn't have to look at them up close to know they were dead.

"You're a fucking idiot," she sighed, getting into the car.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

Harleen glared at the phone in horror before snarling into the receiver, "Who the hell are you and what do you want?"

Laughter erupted from the other end of the line, and Harleen held the phone away from her ear. "You'll come... You can't hide... from... Me..."

The line went dead, and Harleen dropped the phone on the floor. "Oh, shit," she said, remembering the man from the bar that had been following her around for the last week. "He's watching me..." She felt her pulse increase at a frighteningly rapid pace, never knowing that, in a few short years, she would steadily begin her descent into hell.

* * *

Finis.

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics. The characters used in this fic are based on the characters in The Dark Knight (except Harley). I only own my plot and my characters.

**Chapter 4: **Descent

**A/N: **Heheh... This thing is SO much fun! Mwahahahahahaha! XD

**Music:** _Let You Down_ by _Three Days Grace_

* * *

A dark cloud hung over Gotham, soaking the city with a icy rain. Several people ran past her holding newspapers, coats, or umbrellas over their heads to keep dry. But Harley kept walking, oblivious to the sheet of moisture that pelted her.

She didn't know how long she had been walking, and she didn't care. She had sworn to kill Batman even at the cost of her own life, and she refused to back out now. Harley would go to the end of the Earth to kill the bastard that took Jack from her.

As Harley neared the bridge that led across the harbor to the wreckage of Arkham Asylum, the rain fell harder, soaking her to the bone. She shuddered slightly and walked into an alley and under a fire escape. The metal platform above her head shielding her from most of the rain.

She leaned against the brick wall of the alley, angry and tired of everything. What was there to live for? Gotham's "knight" had taken everything from her in an instant. Why should she exist in a world where she was alone?

Stupid man, she thought. I hate you.

Harley stepped out from under the fire escape and glared at the thundering sky. "Why did you leave me here, you bastard?" she screamed, reaching for the switchblade in the coat pocket.

It shot out of the handle with a _click _as Harley raised the weapon above her head, closing her eyes.

I'll be with you soon, Jack, she thought, bringing the glinting blade down towards her chest.

There was a loud crack of lightning, and Harley opened her eyes to see a gloved hand holding the blade in front of her. Without thinking, she let out a scream and was cut off by a hand over her mouth. She twisted and struggled, but the grip remained.

Harley felt the tip of the blade as it was dragged along the side of her collar bone. "What are you thinking, wandering around here in the dead of night? Something. Could. Happen."

She felt her heart jump at the words. The tight grip around her vanished, and she spun around finding herself looking into Jack's dark eyes.

"But... I... you... Huh?" she stammered uncontrollably.

"You actually thought he took _me _out? Harley, I thought you _knew _better," he said, smirking at her ridiculous expression.

Harley dropped her gaze to the ground, her hands balled into fists at her sides, shaking. "You... bastard!" In a fit of rage, Harley rushed at Jack and pushed him against the wall.

"What the hell were _you _thinking, worrying me like that? You scared me to death! I can't believe you would do something so-"

"Low?" he asked, finishing her thought. He chuckled. "It was necessary, Harley. I mysteriously vanish for a while, and Gotham lowers its guard, making it easier for me to draw out Batman with my games."

Harley bit her lip. "Don't change the subject! I don't give a shit about your games, Jack! I —" She was cut off by the sound of police sirens in the near distance. Harley glanced behind her to the street to be sure there weren't any patrol cars before returning her attention to Jack.

"What in God's name did you do?" she shrieked, fighting the urge to kick him. He shrugged, and Harley saw the blood staining his sleeve. "You didn't... For fuck's sake, Jack! Can't you lie low for five minutes?"

"I _was _lying low! I've been bored to death for the last two weeks, waiting for the right time to send Gotham back into hell. Is that such a bad thing?" he chuckled, pocketing his knife.

"If we're standing around out here in the dead of night, then yes!" Harley grabbed his arm and tried pulling him out of the alley.

"Harley, we don't have to go _that_ way," he said, leading her in the opposite direction. "There's someone we need to... _visit _first."

When she saw the streetlamps at last, there was an empty patrol car beneath them, two bloody officers lying on the ground. She didn't have to look at them up close to know they were dead.

"You're an idiot," she sighed, getting into the car.

Harleen glared at the phone in horror before snarling into the receiver, "Who the hell are you and what do you want?"

Laughter erupted from the other end of the line, and Harleen held the phone away from her ear. "You'll come... You can't hide... from... Me..."

The line went dead, and Harleen dropped the phone on the floor. "Oh my God," she said, remembering the man from the bar that had been following her around for the last week. "He's watching me..."

And she felt her pulse increase at a frighteningly rapid pace, never knowing that in a few short years, she would steadily begin her descent into hell.

* * *

It. Is. FINISHED! I'm very dramatic about these things. Let me know how it is.


	5. Truth

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics. The characters used in this fic are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_ (except Harley). I only own my characters and my plot.

**Chapter 5: **Truth

**A/N: **Possibly cheesy.

**Music:** _If I Were You_ by _Hoobastank_

* * *

They sat together under the stars, fingers laced, neither willing to let the other out of their grasp, even for a second. Daniel's right hand pressed hers into his left, the warmth of his skin devouring the cold of hers. This night would be special for them in more ways than one. Her eighteenth birthday had been wonderful, and she had spent it with the man she knew would die for her. She couldn't have asked for anything better

"Anna," Daniel pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I've been wanting to ask you something for a while now."

She smiled at him, watching his sparkling green eyes dance with a light greater than that of the shimmering moon and stars. She loved it when he tried to be suave. "Go ahead," she said with a genuine smile. "Ask me."

Anna watched with bated breath as Daniel dropped to the ground, reached into his pocket, and took her hand in his own. He paused, clearly nervous about the situation. "Anna Michelle, I love you with my heart and soul. And I need to know... will you marry me?"

Her eyes filled with joyous tears as she hopped down, kissing him. "Daniel, I want to spend the remainder of my life with you!" she choked out between sobs.

"You will?" he whispered hopefully.

"Yes. I will. Forever."

He laughed, holding her close. "Nothing lasts forever... silly girl."

His proposal that night had made all the hurt and sorrow vanish, if only for a moment. Anna had felt in her heart that she could be happy again. She would move on and watch as all her pain was washed away, just like the Earth was cleansed with each passing rainstorm.

Everything would be like a dream.

Their wedding day would be etched into Anna's heart and soul forever. She would never forget how stunning Daniel had looked as she met him at the alter. Her heart had stopped altogether when he had stared at her while she walked down the aisle. His brilliant eyes and perfect features watched her throughout the entire ceremony, soaking in her beauty, making known to her that she would be the center of his universe.

The joy she felt, as they sat together at the reception, drowned out all the regrets that she had kept hidden. That her mother hadn't lived to see her married, or that her brother had horrendously committed suicide weeks earlier. After all the trouble she'd been through, and all the sleepless nights of terror, Anna felt that she could, once again, be happy.

She sat with him, clasping his hand in her own, lost in thoughts of being with him for years to come, raising a family together, and being happy for the remainder of their lives. Anna was enthralled by the magnificent events that had taken place, and she wanted it to last forever.

Everything had been perfect when he came into her life, but all the things they wanted to accomplish together had been destroyed in a matter of seconds. What had she done to deserve losing him, and after so much searching? Anna's mother had died a horrific death the same night that Daniel had proposed, her younger brother had committed suicide three days later, and, over the years, her father had lost his sanity to the overwhelming power of alcohol. Wasn't that enough? Did the world have to take Daniel away, too?

And yet, with all she had lost, she had gained something in return. She had been given a beautiful daughter who was like Daniel in so many ways. Her hair, her smile, her bright, beautiful eyes. Even with such a beautiful child in her life, there was always one thing that haunted Anna: Would she lose Amy too?

Anna had asked herself that question millions of times since Amy's birth, and the answer was always the same: Yes. She would lose Amy someday, and when that day came, Anna would be forced to let go. It hurt her to think that someday she would have to let her Amy move on and make a life for herself.

Her body shook with sobs, and she wondered what she had done to lose the only man she had ever loved.

"Mommy!"

Anna wiped her eyes as Amy charged into the bedroom with a piece of paper in hand.

"Mommy, you have a message from Uncle Bruce," Amy said, handing the paper to her mother. "He says you gotta call him soon," she instructed, pointing at the paper.

Anna glanced at the letters and numbers scrawled in blue crayon across the paper and gave Amy a small smile. She followed the bouncy child into the living room and watched as the five-year-old plopped herself down in front of _Mulan_ with a box of crayons and a _Winnie the Pooh _coloring book. As expected, her cell phone was sitting on the counter where she had left it earlier. Picking up the phone, she dialed the number on the paper and sat at the kitchen table with her laptop in front of her.

"Wayne Enterprises. Natalie speaking," the secretary said. "How may I help you today?"

"Could you connect me to Mr. Wayne's office, please?" Anna asked, pulling up the Internet on her laptop.

"One moment, please."

There was a click as the secretary connected Anna to Bruce's office. The phone rang six times before he answered.

"Wayne Enterprises. Bruce Wayne speaking," he said. "What can I do ya for?"

"My God, Bruce. Do you always answer the phone like that? I never knew you were so... sophisticated," she teased, choosing to ignore his last statement. Probably one of his pick-up lines at the bar.

"Funny, Anna," he retorted with a snort. "So how have things been? I haven't seen you and Amy in weeks."

Anna sighed, spinning the pointer around on her laptop screen. "Well, things could be better. I ran across some old photos and letters from when we were in high school," she laughed, remembering her friend's shitty love notes. "I still can't believe you asked me to my Senior Prom after Daniel asked me. You were way out of your league, asking a Senior to go with you."

Silence.

"Bruce?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you hear me?" Anna demanded, logging into her email account. "

"Unfortunately."

She only wished she could see the embarrassment on his usually smug face. Her comment had, more than likely, cheesed him off, at least a little.

"Anna, I need you to check your mail." His tone was different now. Serious.

"I just logged in," she replied, clicking the 'Log In' button. "So, what's so important that I need see it now?"

"Do you see something in the inbox labeled 'Sanders Report'?"

"God, Bruce," she huffed, rolling across the kitchen with the phone. "Why do you insist on tormenting me with this? Each time you send this to me, it's always the same damned report. Can't you have a little consideration for my feelings?" Anna slid the chair back, and moved her finger across the touch-pad, highlighting the email.

She knew damn well that Bruce wasn't going to answer her questions anytime soon, she gave in. She suddenly began wishing that Bruce would find someone else to bother. There were plenty of other people for the "Playboy Prince of Gotham" to tease on a regular basis, including the several half-assed, overly-exposed women that hung on his arm every other time he went out.

"Bruce, don't you have anyone else to bother? Why don't you go play your little 'games' with some of your little 'girlfriends'? I'm sure they'd love to see you again," she shot, hoping that he'd take the hint.

"For God's sake, Anna. Just open it. I'm sure you'll find this interesting."

Reluctantly, she double-clicked the email, put Bruce on speaker, and got up to make dinner for herself and Amy: Macaroni and cheese with the little macaroni pieces shaped like Disney characters. Amy's favorite.

"Well?" Bruce was acting a little too high-and-mighty for her taste, and she was tempted to simply tell him off and hang up as she walked back to the laptop.

"It's..." Anna stared wide-eyed at the message on the screen. "Bruce, is this some kind of joke?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Oh, God..." she sighed, slapping a hand over her eyes.

"Anna?"

She couldn't bring herself to respond to what she was reading:

'The case regarding the death of the late Gotham Times photographer, Daniel Sanders, is well on its way to being ruled as a homicide by the courts. After several examinations, Christopher Holmes, the driver of the truck with which Sanders' vehicle collided, admits to having purposefully driven into the vehicle of the deceased after receiving instructions from, what Holmes claims to be, "an unkown source..."'

"Anna?"

"What the hell are you implying with this report, Bruce?"

"Are you even reading it?" he shot, breathing into the phone. "It's right there in front of your face. "'Is well on its way to being ruled as a homicide.' Anna, I'm sure that this 'unkown source' Holmes spoke of is the Joker."

Anna very nearly slapped herself. Bruce Wayne was, for sure, obsessed with the Joker. Everything had to lead back to that damned psychopath. "You're insane!" she shouted into the phone. "And this isn't funny!"

"Holmes also admitted to having been a part of the mafia until five years ago. Anna, there's no other explanation," he replied, having blatantly ignored her.

_Oh, God... Daniel..._

* * *

_Finis._


	6. Life or Death

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics. The characters used in this fic (except Harley) are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I only own my characters and my plot.

**Chapter 6: **Life or Death

**A/N: **...

**Music:** _Get Out Alive _by _Three Days Grace_

* * *

It was late when Amy finished her bubble bath and plodded down the hall to her bedroom. She glanced into her mother's room, spotting the woman lying, in a heap, under the quilts with the television turned on. With a smile, Amy closed her mother's door silently, and turned on the hall light before going into her own room. She left the door open a crack so the light from the hall would be visible from her bed. With that taken care of, Amy crawled onto her bed, and found that her Disney pajamas were folded on her pillow.

Her mother's work, for sure.

She quickly removed her tiny bathrobe, yanked on her pajamas, and pushed _Pocahontas _into her VCR before crawling under the bright comforter, hugging her stuffed bear, Rupert. Oddly enough, she and Rupert weren't alone. There was a man in her room, staring fondly at her from the door. She stared at him, looking into his face, feeling that she knew him somehow. His eyes were a startlingly brilliant green, that appeared even brighter in contrast to his short, sandy blond hair.

"Who are you?" she asked, unable to tear her gaze away from his. A smile crossed his features, and Amy couldn't help smiling, too. A light fog seemed to close around them, and, in the distance, Amy could see someone approaching. "Mommy!"

Anna stepped out of the fog, and linked arms with the stranger. Her black hair and crystalline blue eyes shone with a radiance that Amy had never seen before. Her mother's entire figure seemed to shine, as if she were made entirely of glass.

"Mommy, who is this?" Amy asked, reaching for her mother through the fog. "And why is he here?"

Anna glanced into the man's eyes and nodded, releasing his arm. He stepped forward and knelt in front of Amy so they were at eye level, placing his hands on her tiny shoulders. "Don't you remember, Amy?" His eyes seemed to dim with the question.

Amy shook her head, ignoring the hair that fell into her face. "I... don't know..."

He pulled her into his arms, and she felt the faint beating of his heart as he held her close. "It's not your fault, angel. I'm sorry I've never been there for you. If I could, I'd change the way things happened that night."

She felt her eyes fill with tears, and she leaned into his embrace with one word upon her lips: "Daddy."

"Daddy... Daddy!" Amy bolted upright, tears flowing from her eyes. She scanned the room for any sign of the man she had seen in her dream, but he was gone. She pulled Rupert close and began to cry, ignoring the sound from the television.

A sudden crash from the living room sent Amy scrambling to her bedroom door. She turned off the sound on the television and, with Rupert still clutched to her chest, Amy pulled open her door and crept silently down the hall.

The living room was dark save for the tiny bit of light from the street lamp that crept in through the window. Amy peeked into the living room from the hallway, surprised to see that the window was open and rain was soaking the hardwood floor. She ran across the living room to the window, not even thinking about who, or what, could be in the apartment. She then raced to the kitchen cabinet and grabbed a rag to wipe up the rain water, not knowing that she wasn't the only one in the room. Rupert lay on the floor by the kitchen table where Amy had dropped him. Tossing the rag into the sink, Amy plucked Rupert off the floor and began plodding down the hallway when the sound of breaking glass erupted from behind her.

A small bullet lay on the floor amidst the shards of broken glass and rain water. By squinting at the window, Amy made out a small hole in the glass that had sent cracks in every possible direction across the remaining glass. Her heart pounded against her chest, screaming at her to run to her mother's room, but Amy couldn't will herself to move. She glanced at Rupert, wishing that he could talk to her. She imagined him saying, "Call the police! Hurry!"

Amy tore her eyes away from her bear and stared at the kitchen counter._ There!_ Her mother's cell phone was sitting there, as if it were waiting for her. _Now!_

She bolted from her place in the hallway, and ran, grabbing the phone. Before she could dial, the remainder of the living room window was smashed in, and glass flew across the room. When the tinkling of the glass ceased, Amy heard footsteps... and voices. She ducked down behind the counter, clinging to her bear for dear life.

"Find her."

The voice Amy suddenly heard in her head was neither her own nor Rupert's, but her father's. 

_Amy, run!_

Without thinking, Amy ran to her room and slammed the door. She leaned against it, locking the doorknob, and clutching Rupert and the phone tightly to her heaving chest. After hearing nothing from the other side of her door, Amy shakily walked backwards towards her bed, watching the door intently. Instead of backing up into her bed, Amy found a rough hand clamped over her mouth.

_Mommy! Mommy, help me!_ she thought. _Please! I don't wanna die!_

"Stop squirming," a woman whispered, wrenching the phone from Amy's grasp. "Unless you want something to happen to Mommy."

Amy abruptly abandoned her attempt to escape, and found herself terrified, not only for herself, but for her mother as well. The sound of approaching footsteps echoed from behind Amy's closed door. The footsteps stopped in front of her door, and she could hear a cold voice as well as the clinking of something metallic against her doorknob. She winced as the doorknob began to move, frightened of the presence on the other side of the door.

_Please stop... Please..._

As if in response to her thoughts, the sounds on the other side ceased. Amy felt a brief sense of relief before the lock on the doorknob turned with a click. She stared at the door, wide-eyed and holding her breath, praying that everything she was seeing was a dream.

The door swung open, and Amy would have screamed if her mouth hadn't been covered by the woman's hand. She immediately recognized the man who entered her room, for she had been told by several people, her mother, Bruce Wayne, her teachers, and even Police Commissioner Jim Gordon, that if she ever came into contact with this man, she was to find help immediately.

A gloved hand grabbed Amy roughly by the chin, jerking her head upwards. She shuddered and felt her eyes fill with tears as she found herself staring into the face of the Joker. He ran his free hand through his green-tinted hair, his dark eyes boring into Amy's.

Her mind screamed at her to break eye contact with him, but she was petrified. She wanted someone, anyone to save her. She didn't care who, as long as they took her as far away from this monster as possible.

Amy felt a sharp pain in her tiny stomach as she slumped to the floor, praying for her mother to rescue her. As her world went black, flickers of red light flashed behind her eyes and she thought she heard her mother calling her name.

_Mommy... Daddy... Help me..._

* * *

Please review.


	7. What's The Catch?

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on Chris Nolan's characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters Anna, Amy, Daniel, and Alec.

**Chapter 7: **What's The Catch?

**A/N: **New OC here.

**Music:**_ Headstrong_ by _Trapt_

* * *

He shifted his position amongst the bedding, trying desperately to return to sleep. It was torture to awaken to the sights and sounds of such a dead city. He finally caved, giving into the light that shone in his face. He sat up, rubbing his eyes through the raven black hair that fell in his eyes. Shielding his face with a hand, he cracked open his dull grey eyes, cautiously observing his surroundings.

Barely satisfied with what he'd seen, he dragged himself to his feet, pulled the dark leather coat tightly around his body, and walked out of the alley and down the street. Several passersby stared at him, probably wondering why the hell some punk-ass kid was wandering around Gotham when he should be in school or working. He wasn't like the rest of the kids in Gotham. He didn't give a shit about school.

People watched him warily, some shying away if he came too close, others hiding their children behind them, afraid that he might pull a knife on them. Frankly, he quite enjoyed the terror that shone in their eyes and was reflected on their smug faces. It gave him a sense of superiority over the spineless inhabitants of Gotham.

An elderly woman walking in front of him kept glancing back, quickening her pace every few seconds. She turned onto 42nd Street and walked into the coffee shop on the corner. He followed, without any interest in the idiots that stared as he approached the counter.

There was a girl, maybe two years older than himself, who smiled and gave him a warm welcome each time he entered the shop. He placed a couple of bills on the counter, and the girl hurriedly began to prepare his usual order. Within moments, she handed him the steaming cup, and watched as he took his usual seat by the large window. If he didn't know better, he would have said she had a damn crush on him.

He stared out at the bustling streets of Gotham, wanting nothing more than to hear them scream in terror. Since the Batman had appeared in Gotham, people were constantly bickering amongst themselves about whether or not the overgrown bat should turn himself in or not. The whole damn controversy was one big pain in the ass. Did it matter if Batman turned himself in or not? Why should it? Personally, he didn't give a rat's ass about Gotham _or _the Batman. For all he cared, the Joker could demolish the whole fucking city with a nuclear bomb.

That'd clear all his troubles away.

What had Gotham ever done for him anyway? Absolutely nothing. It was thanks to the Batman that he was sitting alone in a coffee shop with everyone staring at him. Gotham's vigilante had been the _cause _of all his trouble to begin with.

Because of Gotham's "Dark Knight," he had lost everything. His parents had been working behind the scenes on the fear toxin with Johnathan Crane and Ra's Al Ghul when the damned bat showed up and sent both his parents, and Al Ghul, to their deaths when the elevated train collapsed. He hadn't been proud that they'd dropped their jobs as asylum medics, but they had kept bringing in the cash.

As a result of that fateful night, he had given up everything and gone against any rules or fucking laws he had to in his attempt to find and kill Gotham's so-called "hero." But no one would believe that a scrawny "emo" kid would take out the vigilante. To hell with them all, he'd decided. He'd make the cut, and take the bat's head in the process.

The bell on the shop door went off and, without thinking, he turned to see a beautiful blond woman in a beige overcoat walk in. Her eyes, he noticed, shimmered like the purest crystal; a deep cyanosis blue, completely untainted by any foreign substance. Once she had received her coffee, she glanced in his direction, staring at him with interest. Their eyes met for an instant before he turned away to stare out the window once more.

The sound of a chair scraping against the tiled floor reached his ears, and he found that she had taken the seat beside him.

"You have an interest in the doings of Gotham?" she asked mockingly, disfavor clear in her voice as she glanced out the window. Her voice was like the echo of an angelic choir, perfectly orchestrated in more ways than one could count. "Or do you just enjoy watching deadbeats?" When he didn't respond, she continued, "This city won't be standing for long, you know. One day soon, hysteria will take hold of Gotham, and this so-called perfection will be engulfed in flames, forever lost within the folds of chaos and anarchy."

He gave her a sideways glance and smirked. She was interesting, this woman. "You seem to have a rather bleak perspective on things. Any particular reason why?"

"I'd tell you, but a kid like you would go running off to the police. I can't take any chances," she retorted, taking a drink of her steaming mocha.

"Me?" he said, feigning hurt. "What the hell would I go to the police for? They didn't do anything for me before, so why give them another chance to screw me over? They're about as low as the mob bosses in this city. Trash..."

She gave him a small smile. "In that case, I suppose I could let you in on a few things," she said, standing up and heading for the door. "Follow me."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

"Amy?" Anna shuffled groggily from her room into Amy's, finding the bed empty. She headed down the hall to the living room, thinking that Amy might have fallen asleep on the sofa. "Baby, it's almost time for school. You're gonna be late..."

Coming to the end of the hall, Anna glanced to her right, let out a scream, and ran to the shattered window. It had been broken from the outside as far as she could tell, and the rainwater had already begun to warp the hardwood floor. Kneeling amongst the shattered glass, Anna spotted several small objects scattered across the floor.

Bullets.

Anna gasped and ran back to Amy's room, afraid that she might find her child's body buried in the closet. She searched the room over and found no sign of blood or carnage, much to her relief. Taking a seat on Amy's bed, Anna ran her hand over the quilted fabric of the folded comforter that had belonged to her mother. A glitter flashed in Anna's eyes, coming from Amy's window, and she turned to find a card pinned to the wall with a knife. Tearing the card out from beneath the blade, Anna flipped it over and stared.

A joker.

"Oh, God... He has Amy..." she whispered, letting the card flutter to the floor. Anna turned to the knife embedded in the wall and pulled with all her strength to free it. The blade came free of its prison with a scraping sound as it dragged bits of plaster and paint out with it. "Damn..."

Anna examined the blade, turning it over in her hands. It appeared to be a regular switchblade with a dark handle, but she felt as though she had seen it before. Where in God's name had she seen a weapon like this before? She wracked her mind, searching for the answer.

When the answer came, the knife tumbled to the floor, followed swiftly by Anna.

_This is identical to... Could it... No! Dammit, Anna! Stop thinking like that! There's no way in hell that this could be the same knife you saw before! There's no way! No way... No.._.

"There's just no way..."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

He followed her for about a half hour before she stopped in front of a worn-down condominium in downtown Gotham. The scent of sea water reached his nose, and he knew that they weren't too far from the harbor. The woman withdrew a key from her coat pocket and opened the double doors that stood before them, ushering him inside and locking the doors securely behind them. He found himself in a large room where the hardwood floor was scuffed, and the far side was fenced off with large bars and wire, behind which were several half-starved rottweilers.

"Just ignore them," she said turning to him. "They can't get out, and even if they did, I'm sure you wouldn't have much trouble fighting them off." She turned her back and headed for the stairs, clearly in some sort of hurry.

"Hey! At least tell me your name," he called, running after her. "Wait, dammit!"

"It's Harley," she said, after he had caught up. She opened a door, and, behind her, he could see that darkness engulfed the room completely, as if it were a realm of shadows. "Come on..."

He followed her inside, losing sight of her once the door closed. "Harley?"

A low growl came from his left, and he turned towards the sound, faintly catching sight of the glimmering eyes of a rottweiler. The beast pounced, and the impact sent him sprawling to the floor. His head hit the floor with a thud, and, before he could move, the dog was clamping its massive jaws onto his arm.

_Dammit!_

Blood flowed down his arm from the wound, and he struggled to flip the animal over onto its back. The attempt failed, and the drooling creature only increased the pressure on his arm. He pulled one leg up and sent it into the beast's chest, forcing the dog to release its iron grip. The rottweiler whined as it flew across the dark room and into a wall, followed by the sickening sound of broken bones.

Eyes having adjusted to the darkness, he inched towards the dog's unmoving figure by the wall, spotting several wounds that he was sure he hadn't caused. The animal's tongue lolled from its bloodied mouth, and several bones were protruding from the lithe body, warm blood seeping from the broken skin. The damned thing had been starved, beaten, and set on him. What the hell kind of game had she led him into?

He straightened up, determined to look for the traitorous little bitch who had lured him into this death trap. Putting pressure on his bleeding arm, he steadily began to scan the darkened room, making out various objects every few feet.

There was a soft click as his boot came down on something hard. Pulling his foot away, he spotted a small pistol that appeared to be fully loaded. As he knelt to grab the weapon, an arm closed around his throat from behind, suffocating him. He struggled to free himself, but felt a sharp point digging through his leather jacket and into his back.

The grip on his throat tightened and his vision began to flicker. He felt himself being thrown onto his back and a knife being pressed into his mouth. A dark figure loomed above him, with one hand closed around the knife, the other pressing down on his throat.

A harsh voice filled his ears before he lost consciousness; the voice of the Devil.

"Why so serious?"

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

"What's 'no way'?"

Anna fell backwards and, from her awkward position on the floor, saw Bruce standing in the doorway. Still dazed, she smirked at him and quickly slid the card into her sock to hide it. The last thing she wanted, was to get Bruce involved in this. Even if he was Batman.

"Anna, are you all right?" Bruce asked, leaning against the door frame. "You look..."

She had to change the subject fast. "Bruce, how the hell did you get in here?" she said, ignoring his previous questions and giving him a playful shove.

He smirked. "You _did _give me a key in case of emergencies, you know? I thought I'd come and check on you and Amy." Bruce glanced down the hall to the kitchen and living room before turning back to Anna with a puzzled look on his face. "Anna, where's Amy?"

Anna felt her breath catch in her throat, and she began to wrack her mind furiously for an answer. "Um... Are you hungry? I was about to make breakfast," she said hurriedly, leading him to the kitchen where she shoved him into a seat at the table.

"Where's Amy?" Bruce repeated, glaring at her as she shuffled through the refrigerator, tossing eggs, bacon and various other breakfast foods onto the counter.

"Um... Amy's at school," she said quickly, heading for the coffee pot. "Want some?"

Bruce stared at her from his seat at the table and glanced at his watch. "Anna, it's Saturday."

She froze._ Shit._

"It is? Damn, I must be out of it. I guess I need to stop staying up so late to watch _House. _Maybe I should tape it..."

Bruce stood up from the chair and walked into the kitchen, trapping Anna between himself and the counter. "Anna," he said, turning her around to face him. "Where _is_ Amy?"

Anna ducked under his arm and ran to the table where she pretended to check her calendar. "Oh!" she said, smacking her forehead. "I forgot. She's at Kali's house."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Kali? Kali Hoffman? Her father just took over from Mr. Reese as my lawyer. He took his family out of town last Tuesday."

_Oh, shit!_

"Anna, what the hell's going on?"

Her eyes moved from Bruce's to her sock, where the joker card was hidden. Bruce noticed this, and, to Anna's shock, tried to pick her up. She leaped back, pretending to have stepped on something as she reached into her sock, crumpling up the card in her fist.

"Anna, what are you hiding?" Bruce shouted, following her as she hopped around the table. Escaping from Bruce into the living room, she hopped too close to the broken window and stepped on the shards of glass.

"Damn!" Anna screamed and fell into Bruce's arms. He set her down on the couch and ran to the bathroom for the first aid kit, while Anna let herself scream into one of the cushions. He returned moments later to find her vibrant eyes blood-shot and filled with tears.

"Anna, you need to tell me what's happening," he said, trying to coax her into talking. But she sat silently, flinching every now and then as shards of glass were pulled from her flesh.

Soon, her bloodied feet were firmly wrapped in anti bacterial gauze and medical tape. She hung her head as Bruce started helping her to pull on a clean pair of socks before allowing her to put on the slippers he had grabbed from her room.

"Batman can't get involved this time, Bruce," Anna whispered, staring at the floor. "He just can't..."

Without a word, Bruce nodded and went back to the kitchen to make the coffee.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

There was a sharp pain in his side as a boot kicked him roughly in the ribs. Clutching his side with his good arm, he rolled over and opened his eyes, to find himself staring into Harley's face.

He shot forward, and wrapped his hands securely around her throat, forcing all of his weight on her in a desprate attempt to kill her. There was another painful blow to his ribs, this time from a bullet, and blood spurted from between his fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding. With his free hand, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a hunting knife, pointing it at the woman.

He was jerked roughly away from Harley and slammed into the wall once again. His vision blurred, and he suddenly felt sick. The sickening laughter that chilled Gotham echoed around him, and he couldn't help but flinch. When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into the scarred face of the Joker.

He struggled to breathe, but the Joker's grip on him was like iron. He felt the vice grip relax, and he found himself falling to the floor, smacking his head against the wall with a heavy thud.

"You never told me _your _name," Harley said, grabbing him by the hair. She had removed her previous attire, revealing a black and red skin-tight body suit, patterned with diamonds on each side.

He coughed and felt another sharp pain in his side. "Alec," he spat, breathing heavily. "Alec Lawson..."

Alec heard the click, click, click of metal, and felt the tip of a knife at his throat. Were they going to kill him right away, or torment him until his body gave out? Was this what he had been born for? To die at the hands of a madman?

"What are you waiting for?" he hissed. "If you're gonna kill me, then kill me!"

The Joker's laughter cut through the air, ringing in Alec's ears. "_Kill_ you? I don't wanna kill you..." he trailed off, and Alec felt himself being pulled up by the collar of his shirt. "You're being offered... the chance of a lifetime..."

Alec bit his lip and stared at the psychopath. "What's the catch, you son of a bitch?

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

"Anna, please. You know you can tell me anything," Bruce said, handing her a steaming cup of coffee. He knew she was trying to ignore him by the way she stared at the television and flinched when he spoke to her. The silence lasted for about fifteen minutes before Bruce checked his watch. "Anna, I have to go," he said, putting an arm around her shoulder. "I'm already thirty minutes late for a board meeting. I'll stop by around two."

She nodded and followed him to the door in silence, locking it behind him.

_I'm sorry, Bruce... I need to do this alone..._

* * *

Alec is, more-or-less, the sterotypical "emo" kid. Rough around the edges with a dark past and a good heart.


	8. Suspicions

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on Chris Nolan's characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 8: **Suspicions

**A/N: **Long time since my last update.

**Music:** _Burn_ by _We Are The Fallen  
_

* * *

The press conference had gone well without any disturbances, save those that tumbled about in Bruce's mind. Anna's behavior had unnerved him, and something told him that she was hiding from something... or someone. It was clear that she was beginning to distance herself from him, keeping her thoughts and feelings locked away behind a steel door. Something told Bruce that she was searching for something; searching for answers to questions he knew she didn't want to know.

He'd known her long enough to know that Anna didn't hide just anything. Anna hadn't been so isolated since her brother's suicide and Daniel's death. Both being events that Bruce knew she would never be able to cope with completely. She had refused his help, and the last thing he wanted to do was violate her personal space by forcing himself upon her. All he could do was wait and pray to God that she would realize that she needed help.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

Newspapers lay across the table, filled with articles and pictures relating to Jack's suicide. Articles and interviews from terrified citizens expressing their concern about the Joker's relentless attacks on Gotham and the infamous vigilante. Older photos and a few tattered leather bound books were thrown into the mix, scattering newspaper clippings as they were dropped onto the table.

Grasping one of the books, Anna flipped through the pages, searching for a door into her brother's mind. The little book held thousands of memories between each page. Pages that could possibly allow Anna to explore what Jack had hidden beneath the surface.

As she recalled, their mother had given Jack the book for him to find a safer way to vent than breaking windows and slashing bike tires. He had been eleven at the time his violent temper began to get the better of him. It had been around the same time that he had developed a strange fixation for destruction.

The pages smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, confirming Anna's past suspicion about Jack stealing their father's cigarettes when he wasn't around. As the pages flew, the scent grew stronger, mingling with the sickening stench of iron.

_Blood._

The final entry in the book was about twenty pages short of the end. It had been dated July 19, 1997. The day that Anna wished she could forever erase from her memory. Dried blood was spattered across the page, having blended with the black ink, making the words almost illegible, and leaving only fragments of words and phrases to be read.

The writing frightened her far more than her father ever had. Anna had long-since come to the realization that the one who had terrified her all that time had been her brother. When he had learned to hide his emotions, he would become eerily calm and quiet. Frightening. Emotionless. With nothing but hatred and anger bubbling beneath the surface. Wanting nothing more than to kill the man who had tried to kill him on several occasions.

The words near the bottom of the page were almost enough to send Anna into shock.

'I can't forgive what he's done... I want to kill him... take everything from him. Make him pay... destroy all evidence of my existence... an alias so they can't track me... I'll wait... the battle for Gotham's soul... Nobody can know... an agent of chaos... it's only fair that he hears those words as he dies: _Why so serious_?'

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

Bruce sat in his penthouse, staring out the large windows of his room, watching the horizon darken as the sun descended behind the massive buildings of Gotham, until nothing but the city lights glowed. They outshone the stars, making for a more beautiful sight. From such a place, Gotham Harbor and Prewitt Building were a usual part of what Bruce saw each day. Since the Joker's appearance months earlier, Gotham had collapsed onto itself, having been turned inside-out by the doings of one man.

So much had been lost during that time, and not nearly enough, if anything, had been gained.

Everything was falling apart before his eyes, and neither he nor Batman could do enough to reverse the deadly hand that Gotham had been dealt. It seemed that the citizens of Gotham were right. Batman should turn himself in. Yet Bruce couldn't fathom the thought of turning himself in without ensuring that the Joker's twisted "games" ended.

There would be no going back if he gave in to the demands of frightened citizens and a mass-murdering clown. Nothing would be the same. He would be unable to stop the Joker, unable to protect Anna, Amy, and Alfred. He would never forgive himself if something happened to them.

He was still unsure if he would be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect Harvey and Rachel. He had failed them both, but he would not fail Anna.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

The last three words sent Anna's mind reeling with questions. Why would he target Gotham? What was the purpose behind all this madness? And more importantly, 'Why so serious?'

That phrase, written so clearly in blood, was enough to put an end to any theories Anna had held about Jack and the Joker being the same man. Her worst fear had been realized: Jack was the mass-murdering psychopath that had drawn Gotham into the arms of chaos was Jack.

"Everything fits," she whispered. And it did. His sickening fascination with dynamite, gasoline, and gunpowder; his desire to watch the world around him burn; the twisted sense of "humor;" and the irrepressible desire to spread chaos was more than enough to solidly link Jack to the madman who struck terror into the very soul of Gotham.

After the deaths of her mother, brother, by whom she had been fooled, and Daniel, she had asked Alfred why people did the horrible things they did to themselves and others.

His response had been so frighteningly simple: "Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."

That had been it. Jack wanted Gotham to burn. He wanted to watch as it crumbled and turned to smoldering ash. He wanted to watch as the inhabitants of Gotham lost everything.

But more than that, he wanted to destroy the man responsible for taking everything from him.

* * *

Finis.


	9. Ghost

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 9: **Ghost

**A/N: **Be inspired by Heath's Joker. Dedicated to his memory.

**Music:** _Where Will You Go _by _Evanescence_

_

* * *

_

"The night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you... the dawn is coming."

As far as jokes went, Harvey's little promise had been a freaking riot. Gotham wouldn't live long enough to see that dawn. The fools who had so pathetically believed those words were looking towards a day that would never come to light. Gotham would be forever enclosed in chaos; intertwined with anarchy; isolated from the dawn, with madness as the city's only companion.

In the end, Gotham would burn.

And she would come to him. She couldn't resist involving herself in affairs that were none of her concern. But this time, Anna's involvement in his scheme was all "part of the plan." She couldn't have changed much in a decade, and sooner or later, Anna's persistence would put her in a position she didn't want to be in.

That time was now.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

Anna was sure that her sanity and logic were on the verge of destruction. She had spent hours searching for the mass-murdering psychopath who had been her brother, but it was clear that nobody in Gotham was suicidal enough to sell out the Joker. Gotham's citizens may have been steadily losing their minds, but they weren't crazy enough to turn the devil incarnate over to someone like Anna.

"That goddamn son of a bitch... When I get my hands on him, I'll..."

What _would _she do to him? A simple question that had only one unsatisfying answer: _Nothing._ She couldn't do a damn thing to him. He had the upper hand, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. And if, by some miracle, she _did _manage to corner him, he'd find a way out. He always did.

No one had been able to deal with such a lunatic. Even Arkham Asylum, from which escape had been said to be impossible, hadn't been able to keep him incarcerated for more than a few months before he had blown it, and its inhabitants, straight to hell.

She didn't _want _to believe that Jack had become some twisted, mass-murdering clown, but there was no other explanation. It was the _only _thing that made any sense.

If Jack and the Joker really were the same man, and by this time she had no doubt that they were, then, in the near future, she would be forced to confront him, not as a man, but as a ghost of her past.

A frightening thought, indeed.

Admitting to herself that it was too late to continue her search, Anna shoved her hands into her coat pockets with a heavy sigh, and started back towards the apartments. The dark clouds that obscured the glittering blanket of stars, began to growl and flash. A sure sign of another rain storm.

The scent of rain flooded the crisp air, followed swiftly by the downpour itself. Pulling up her hood, Anna ran through the rain, opening the door of a nearby coffee shop as she rounded the nearly flooded corner of Orchard. Tired and out of breath, she took a seat by the large window, closing her eyes and resting her head against the cool glass.

"Damn," she muttered, "_Is_ he stupid enough to believe that killing people will do _anything_ to bring Batman out of hiding? Bastard... What the hell am_ I_ supposed to believe in when he's taking it... "

The unmistakable click of a gun sounded in her ear, only to be followed by the voice that struck terror into the heart of Gotham. "It's a _funny_ world we live in. And I believe whatever doesn't kill you simply makes you... _stranger._"

It was evident that upon discovering the man behind the painted mask, Anna's belief in the "irrevocable bond" that she had fostered with him, was dead. It was gone. Forever eradicated from existence. Jack had severed all ties to her years ago. Years ago, those ties had started to unravel due to the muttering of three very familiar words:

"Why so serious?"

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

She could barely see, even with the faint light of the moon coming through the window. Her eyes shifted through the thick shadows, searching desperately for some presence of hope. But none could be found within the all-consuming darkness. The world outside rang and flashed with dances of color. Vibrantly colored flashes of light splashing across the buildings in the distance, reflecting a shimmering copy of the sight on the waters of Gotham Harbor. A rustle came from the far corner, shattering her focus on the outside world, and drawing her back into the abyss.

A dark silhouette began to shift within the folds of the enveloping darkness, the shadows transforming it into a demon of mournful origin. Casting her eyes back to the glittering sight outside, she knew that the devil was lurking somewhere within that sad city of perpetual insomnia, inspiring chaos, trying to rid the world of sanity.

"Is it really _that _fascinating?" a voice asked.

She turned, surprised to see that a boy, several years older than herself, sat in the corner in place of the monster she had envisioned. His raven hair fell into his grey eyes, obscuring them from view.

"Y-yes... I- I like to sit with Mommy and stare out the window before bed..."

He ran a hand through his hair, and stared at her. "Why? What's so great about _that_ anyway?"

"I..."

"It's nothing special. Just the same as any other damn city out there!" he snarled, pounding a fist against the wall. "It's just another piece of hell... a hell that people waste their time trying to fix... You can't fix something that's never been broken..."

Silence fell between them, and each became lost in their thoughts, spinning until the silence was broken.

"Do you know why I'm here?" she asked, choosing to ignore his swearing. He clearly didn't care enough not to swear around a five-year-old.

He groaned. "Do I _look _like I know anything? I only know that I'm supposed to keep an eye on you until _he_ gets back..."

Her blond hair fell into her eyes, creating a thin golden barrier that seemed to shield her from his penetrating gaze.

"I'm sorry..."

"What?" She peeked through her hair, trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes.

"For snapping at you... It's not your fault, you know? I just hate this damn city... and its fucked up ideals..."

His voice wasn't exactly warm, but the apology was sincere enough. Her head still spun, wondering what the Joker wanted with her and how this boy had gotten involved with him. But all she could do was wait.

_Mommy will come for me... _

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

There was no mistaking the man holding her against her will. White painted face, dark listless eyes, and the red painted smile that appeared to have been smeared on with blood.

Anna wasn't sure how long she sat there, waiting for him to kill her; waiting to hear herself scream as he drowned her in her own blood. He had been gone for years, and her first encounter with him in over a decade was not the ideal "reunion" she had hoped for.

"What the fuck do you want?" she choked, keeping her voice low. His grip tightened as he dragged her from the chair, sending it to the floor with a clatter.

"Outside. _Now_."

Ignoring the frightened stares of the few people in the coffee shop, Anna allowed herself to be dragged outside and into the alley down the street from the shop. She gasped as she was thrown roughly to the ground, once again soaked by the downpour that drenched Gotham in it's sorrows.

Her eyes met his, and Anna knew that she was no longer staring into the mask of a victimized innocent who hid from the frightening darkness. And the sickening realization hit her that there was no wakeful humanity left in the man she saw. He had cast aside who he had been, and adopted a new identity, one that he knew would send the world into chaos.

There was some twisted sense of deprivation within her, and she couldn't bring herself to let him go. Some otherworldly indulgence had taken over, changing, drawing him into some sort of trance that he could never hope to escape.

_No. He doesn't want to escape._

* * *

Finis


	10. Purgatory

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 10: **Purgatory

**A/N: **Dedicated entirely to Heath's memory.

**Music:** _Weight Of The World _by _Evanescence_

* * *

"What's with the face? _Hm? _Not pleased to see me?"

Of course not. It was clear that she had only fooled herself into thinking that she wanted to find him. This wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to find her stupid brat, and she had wanted to do it _alone. _Gotham's Dark Knight wouldn't be interfering with his fun.

Not tonight.

Rage flared in her eyes, and he could see that she wanted to knock him senseless. But she wouldn't. Under normal circumstances, this being one of the most abnormal positions Anna had been in, she'd try to settle things with the "all-powerful" means of negotiation. But he wasn't one to be negotiated with, and they both knew that.

All he wanted was to watch Gotham burn.

By the shock on her face, it was evident that Anna had unearthed the truth only recently, discovering not only _his _secrets, but her own as well. And in the moment she had come into contact with the chaotic darkness that he had kept hidden, she had started to fall apart, piece by lonely piece. And it would continuously devour her until the only thing she had left to turn to was chaos itself.

He was no longer bound to her by familial bonds or worthless promises. The only tie that linked them to each other was pain. It had infected him, evolving until it had destroyed him from the inside out. It had been like a poison coursing through him; a chemical that had been inhaled with every breath he took.

"Escape," she whispered.

There was nothing worth holding on to. Nothing could hold any true meaning in such a world. Escape? There was only pain, and from that, there was no escape.

His voice was barley above a whisper, the knife in his hand. "Escape? There's nothing for me to escape _from._"

"What?"

He had grabbed her before the word had left her mouth, pinning her to the ground beneath him and waving the knife in her face. He watched as Anna's hand snaked into her own pocket, drawing out the all-too-familiar object, clenched in her shaking fist.

"All the old familiar places, hm?"

"You don't _have _to do this, Jack," she whispered, curling her fingers tightly around the weapon in her pocket. "You don't..."

No shit, Sherlock. He didn't _have _to do anything he didn't _want _to do. But he _wanted _this; he _wanted _to make her see it; he _wanted _her to envision every moment of the hell he had been forced to endure. Every last second.

"You're right. I don't _have _to do this, Anna," he whispered. "I _want _to... But first..." he trailed off, gripping her chin before she could turn away. "Look at me..."

A smirk crossed his face as her eyes hardened. "No," she snapped. "I'm not here to play your fucking games."

"Of course not," he mocked, seizing her knife hand as it went for his throat. "If you didn't come to play, then why are you here? Hm? Do you feel responsible for... _these_?" he breathed, wrenching the knife from her hand, and forcibly moving her hand to touch the scars that grazed his face.

Anna flinched and turned away, her eyes watching as the paint slid off, sticking her free hand creeping into his pocket. She clenched her jaw, knowing that she he had to do it now, before she lost her nerve. If she let herself cave now, she knew she would die.

"Did you ever wonder... what _really _happened that night?"

Her eyes hardened. "What's there to wonder about?" she spat. "You don't have to bring it up, jackass. I already _saw_ what he did, and I _don't _want to know all the fucking details." Her hand came from his pocket, clenching the handle of the gun, her finger poised on the trigger. "But I can see you'll never let this die. So, I'm gonna..."

"What're _you_ gonna do? _Kill _me?" he snickered. Talk about a bad joke. "You can't bring yourself to do it. You _won't _kill me. You _can't_."

Anna flinched, keeping the firearm pointed at him. But they both knew that she wouldn't do a damn thing. He laughed quietly, and she felt every amused shudder as if it were her own. He pressed the flat of the blade against her cheek, brushing a strand of wet hair out of her eyes as he smirked.

"Do you remember... exactly what it was you saw..." His tone was dark, chilling. "Or do I have to remind you?"

She didn't answer, instead tightening her grip on the trigger. As horrid as the situation was, it reminded Anna vaguely of the fights they'd have as children. Each taking their turn at daring the other to do something stupid. Only this time, she knew he'd keep his promise of killing her.

"You know," he said, chuckling darkly. "You're _really_ starting to... Piss. Me._ Off_." He pressed the knife against her throat, putting pressure on the blade until it drew blood.

"Bastard... You can't kill me," she choked, trying to steady her nerve.

"Why _not_?" Jack pressed the knife harder against her throat, his ragged breathing in her ear. "You can't _think_ of a reason, can you?" He sighed. "Did you come looking for me thinking that _Bat_man would save you if you got in over your head? Did Batman come through your window when I picked up little Amy? Did Batman save Daniel from... certain death?"

_I don't understand, _Anna thought, her breath catching in her throat at the mention of Daniel's name. "_What _the hell did you say?"

He dragged the blade to her jaw. "Batman doesn't give a _damn _about you. He won't follow you into the abyss to convince the Devil to release you from _purgatory. _When will you understand? Batman _won't _give up his life for _yours_."

"I don't _care _about Batman!" Anna hissed, pressing the barrel of the gun against her captor's chest. "I _want _you to tell me how the hell you know about Daniel!"

His eyes burned into hers, and Anna realized that, maybe, Jack was seeing something in her eyes that she had failed to see within herself. That twisted grin came back into play, and Anna found herself fearing the response to her demand.

"Let's just say..." He paused. "The man who killed him... was _forced _to kill him..."

Anna squeaked, "B-but who would... who would..."

He was completely stupefied by the question. Was she brain dead or suffering from some shitty head trauma? He couldn't help giving her that look. The look that said, "What the fuck is wrong with you? You know _exactly _what I mean."

Pathetic.

The sardonic grin on Jack's face and the flicker of madness in his eyes was the only response she needed. Anna shuddered, her eyes welling up with tears. But they did nothing to lighten the burden she found herself carrying again. "Y-you mean... _you _had him killed... _You _had him taken from me... You were _watching_ me all that time... And I was just... a _part of the plan_...?"

"Yes and no," he admitted, tracing her collarbone with the tip of the knife. "First off, do I really _look _like a guy with a plan? I don't plan, Anna. Never have. It's just too much trouble. I just go out and do things. But the rest of the world has plans. You, Gordon, even Batman. You're _schemers,_ all trying to take matters into your own hands. I'm not a schemer. I'm here to show you people how pathetic you really are. See, you had all these fucking plans, and... look where they got you."

Anna found herself trembling uncontrollably; heart pounding relentlessly against her ribs; muscles tightening; hands becoming numb. She fumbled with the firearm in her hands until the numbness began to subside. There was nothing to think about now. His stupid confession had helped her make up her mind.

He was getting a fucking bullet.

"Is this for Gotham, or are you gonna kill me for _personal reasons_? Which is it?"

Anna's eyes narrowed. _"No_," she said, her voice straining. "I'm gonna kill you because it's what's fair. For everyone you've killed, and all the pain and sorrow, chaos and anarchy you've created..."

Eager fascination burned in his cold eyes. "An eye for an eye, hm? I like it. Looks like we're finally getting somewhere."

A pause. "Fuck you."

Successfully kicking and forcing Jack against the wall, Anna cocked the gun, took aim, and fired.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

Bruce stared at his reflection in the window, becoming furious with himself for just standing there doing nothing. Clenching his teeth, he stalked out of his room and down the stairs where a tired Alfred was sitting with the newspaper and a dark cup of coffee.

"Something wrong, sir?" the butler inquired, looking up from the headlines. "You look distressed."

Bruce sighed. "I can't just sit here, Alfred. Something needs to be done."

Alfred nodded, leaving his newspaper and coffee behind as he followed a rather distressed Bruce to the elevator. The penthouse elevator took them to the ground floor, where Bruce waited impatiently for one of the valets to drive his recently replaced Lamborghini to the front doors.

A hand fell on Bruce's shoulder as he opened the door to the driver's side. "I think it would be in your best interest, Master Wayne, if I did the driving," Alfred suggested with a smile. Bruce sighed and went around to the passenger's side.

"At the rate _you're_ driving," Bruce said, several minutes later, as Alfred slowed down at a light, "we'll _never_ get there."

"You might try calling Ms. Sanders once more before we get there," the butler offered, taking a left turn at the light. "It might do something about your nerves."

Bruce just stared worriedly out the window, watching as the rain pounded against the glass. "I've called her all day, Alfred. I even called her coworkers, and they all said that they haven't seen or heard from Anna in days. Not even Gordon knows where the two of them are. When I spoke to Anna the other day, Amy was gone, but she wouldn't tell me what happened. She just told me not to get involved; that she'd handle things herself."

"I understand your concern, sir. But, perhaps it would be best if I went to check the neighborhood surrounding the apartment while Batman conducts his _own_ investigation. Would that be appropriate?" Alfred said, offering the key to Batman's "cave" to Bruce as they pulled up at the restructured mansion.

The billionaire was clearly pleased with the butler's suggestion, digging Anna's spare key from his pocket and handing it off to Alfred. "I think I can deal with that."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

The violent report of the bullet sounded constantly in her ears, and Anna was shocked to see the increasing pool of dark blood expanding from the body of her target. He'd dropped like a rock to the ground, without so much as a word. With the firearm still clenched in her hand, she staggered to her feet, running out of the alley, looking up and down the street, hoping that Bruce would appear, dressed in his bat suit.

But he was nowhere in sight.

She sunk to her knees, feeling lost and alone, wishing that she had someone, anyone, to turn to for help. But her only hope wasn't there when she needed him to be. And it was all because of her stubborn desire to be independent and handle things by herself.

Anna forced herself back into the dark alley, afraid of what she had done. She had allowed herself to become like _him, _the bastard whose mere presence had once caused her heart to be filled with hatred, sorrow, fear, and murderous intent.

But unknown to Anna, a deep, black silhouette, as profound as the darkness itself, moved within the shrouds of night, watching and waiting.

She shook with the near-silent whimpers that she tried to suppress; hand shaking violently and fingers tightened on the weapon. Tears welled up in her eyes, making her already hazy vision worse. The short, strangled sobs that wracked her body made her throat burn until she released the pent-up frustration in a blood-curdling scream.

The sound had barely escaped her lips when she was violently thrown against the ground, knocking the wind from her body as a hand came down over her mouth, silencing her.

Almost as quickly as it had come, the hand was gone, being pressed instead against her cheek as a knife was forced into her mouth, tugging at her lip as it went. She shuddered upon feeling the edge of the blade bite into the tender flesh inside her cheek.

Anna didn't have to look to know that Jack had, somewhat, composed himself, but she couldn't help herself. Her assault had clearly done more damage than he'd anticipated, having left most of the paint on the ground and upon her hands. His breathing was heavy and labored, and a flare of inhuman rage in his eyes burned unlike anything she had ever seen. But she could see that he had no intention of letting her live.

Not this time.

"I would have _loved _to play this game all the way through, but after _that_..." The tip of the blade began to saw at the inside of her cheek._ "_I just don't have the _patience_ to put up with you."

"I'm not afraid of you," she said defiantly, slowly turning the gun to face him. "You're no scarier now than you were at five."

His expression darkened, and Anna began to regret voicing her previous statement. "Really? Then prove me..." Jack trailed off, glancing around, almost nervously.

Taking advantage of the moment, Anna slipped out from beneath him, and her hands slid slickly across the wet concrete before finding herself face first on the ground. Black and white blotches flashed behind her eyes as she pushed herself to her knees. The metallic scent of iron reached her, and she realized that the moisture on the ground was now a faint red color.

Blood.

She was _bleeding?_ Had he _cut _her? Her hands shot to her face, and she was relieved that she was still intact, save for the small cut inside her mouth. Rationality caught up with her, and Anna realized that she wasn't at all injured.

This wasn't _her _blood.

Turning around, Anna was surprised to see that Bruce, dressed in the entirety of his bat suit, had Jack in a headlock. He gazed at her through his mask, the dark cowl making his ice blue eyes stand out more fully.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a gunshot sounded from behind her savior, sending him to his knees and giving Jack the opening he needed. As the Dark Knight fell, Anna was able to make out a blond woman dressed in a black and red body suit holding a pistol.

Harley Quinn.

Anna screamed and ran towards Batman, wishing that _she _had been the one shot. But she was intercepted by Jack and forced to feel the sharp blade in her mouth yet again as he pressed her against the wall, roughly wiping the tears from her face.

"_Stop it_," he growled. "You're just too_ fucking serious_," he whispered as she hung helplessly on his arm, forcing her to look up at him. "But that's nothing I can't _fix_."

"Don't touch her!" Batman growled, struggling to his feet.

Jack shot him a twisted grin. "You really do like playing with hellfire, don't you, Bruce? I can't always have you barging in uninvited, now, can I? Though I guess it's a little too late to stop that... But I don't want you spoiling all the fun, so..." He turned back to Anna. "I'll have to make this quick." A pause. "Why so serious?"

The knife sliced through flesh, and Anna felt as though the left side of her face was burning. The searing heat blinded her with a violent pain that shook her as she screamed in agony, heaving as blood ran down her throat. And through the pain, she realized that Jack was gone, and that his existence had taken a turn for the worst, freeing his darker side.

The Joker.

Anna watched as the Joker shot her that sardonic grin before he vanished with Harley behind the darkness that sent her tumbling into purgatory; plunging her into the abyss.

* * *

Gore and violence. Perfecto.


	11. Intentions

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 11: **Intentions

**A/N: **Begin reading.

**Music:** _Open Up Your Eyes _by _Daughty_

* * *

"Anna? Anna, wake up."

She knew that voice. "Bruce...?" Her eyes opened and she saw him hovering over her. "Bruce," she said weakly. "Don't stare at me like that. I'm not a damned goldfish."

He stared at her for a moment with wide eyes and laughed at her comparison. "You're looking better than you were when you were handed off to me," he said quietly.

"Handed off?" She blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Bruce stared at her, concern crossing his features. "Don't you remember what happened?" he asked, pressing a hand against her forehead. "Hm. No temperature, but you sure as hell _look _sick."

Her eyes narrowed. "Thanks for kindly telling me that I look like shit." The room suddenly began to spin, and Anna felt as though she had been hung upside down from the ceiling.

_I didn't want this... Jack._

The night's events rushed back, hitting her with what she imagined to be the force of a bullet train. She saw herself, forced to stare into his eyes, seeing that they were void of all traces of humanity; a frightening apparition. Anna fought her way back to the surface before she drowned in the sorrows that had begun to consume her; forcing herself from the darkness of her thoughts, back into reality, into Bruce's open arms.

"Oh, God."

"Here." Opening Anna's hand, Bruce pushed a few Aspirin into her palm. "Anna, do you remember _anything _that happened between you and the Joker?"

Personally, she hated hearing Bruce refer to her maniac brother as if he were the enemy, even if he was. Anna had never been able to deduce what Jack was fully capable of, but after her "reunion" with him the previous night, she knew full-well that he lived up to Gotham's expectations of being a "Mass-Murdering Psychopath."

And the bastard relished in it.

She gripped the sleeve of Bruce's suit, tugging until she felt his grip around her tighten. "The Joker...?" she asked, a slight tremor in her usually steady voice. It sounded worse coming out of her mouth. Great...

"Yeah. Do you remember anything?"

Anna clamped her eyes shut, her body overcome with tremors. She whimpered, seeing that malicious grin everywhere and nowhere at once, and broke down into hysterical sobs. "God, Bruce! Don't leave me alone! Please don't leave me! If you do, he'll... he'll..."

Bruce pulled her closer, careful to avoid putting pressure on her cheek. "I won't leave you, Anna. He can't hurt you anymore. He's gone. He won't do anything to you... not while I'm around. I'll catch him. I promise."

"Don't you _understand, _Bruce?" she sobbed. "You _can't_ catch him! Even if you do, he'll find a way out. He always has... That's just the way he is... And _I _could have prevented that..."

Bruce tilted her face up towards his. "Don't say things like that. There's no way you, or anyone else could have... Anna?" His voice fell, dead serious and barely above a whisper. "I want you to tell me _everything _you know about the Joker."

"Dammit, Bruce," she whimpered, clinging to his shirt, "stop calling him that." Her eyes watered, tears spilling down her face. "I don't want to talk about it... you won't believe me," she said meekly, hoping that Bruce would let it die. She pressed herself to his chest again, listening to the steady pounding of his heart.

"I will," he said, running a hand through her dark hair. "You can trust me."

A sigh escaped her lips. "Even _I _couldn't believe it! But... you remember my... my brother, don't you, Bruce?"

The man narrowed his eyes, wondering what the hell Anna's dead brother had to do with the Joker. "Of course. You said... you said that you found him dead a few days after... _that _night." He was careful not to go into detail about the events of that particular night, knowing how much Anna hated talking about it.

"Well, a few days ago, I was going through some old papers, and I found a note that he had left behind when he ran away." She hesitated. "It was... one of the most shocking things I've ever read, but... the thing that disturbed me the most... was the last line on the page..."

"Which was?"

Anna swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to push back the tears that pricked her eyes. It was now or never.

"The last phrase is something I'm sure that even you will remember or at least recognize: 'Why so serious?'" She could see the gears turning in her friend's head as he fit the pieces together.

Bruce shuddered, clearly trying to connect the dots. "Let me get this straight... You're telling me that your_ brother, _whom you found _dead_ over a decade ago, is the Joker?"

Anna nodded, the tears came, and everything came tumbling out like a flood.

_Damn you, Jack..._

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

_"Jack_ass," Harley muttered from her seat on the couch, ignoring the Joker's incriminating glare. "Do you _always _have to be so... so..."

"Fucking spit it out," he snapped, opening and closing the bloodied switchblade. She never got right to the fucking point, and that was one of the few things about her that pissed him off. "If you've got something to say, then just fucking say it!"

He started humming some nonsensical tune that came out of nowhere, casting a sideways glance at her, noting the amused smirk on her face and realizing that she was antagonizing him on _purpose. _

_Fucking bitch,_ he thought, turning his attention back to the knife in his hand.

"Jack, why are you pouting?" Harley demanded, coming up behind him and draping her arms over his shoulders.

"I'm _not_," he growled, forcing her off his back and lying on the bed. "And stay off of me. Unless... you want to _kill_ me."

Harley glanced at the bullet wounds in his chest. So _that _was the reason behind his sour mood. He was in pain.

She clung to him again, straddling him and ignoring his violent protests. "Fine. But I wanna know why you were so... _rough _with _her_ last night,"she said, making a face to match her disdain. "You can't toy with a woman like that."

Jack gave her a blank stare. "You mean Anna? I don't..." He trailed off, glanced at Harley, and shook with a fit of hysterical laughter.

"What the fuck is _funny _about that?" she demanded, smacking him over the head. The laughter eventually faded into snickering, but Harley still wasn't satisfied. "Stop laughing at me, you fucking sadist."

He tilted his head, having found an opportunity to change the subject. "I'm_ not _a sadist, Harley."

She crossed her arms. "_Really_?"

"I'm a _fucking psychopath._ See the difference?"

Harley narrowed her eyes at him. "No, I _don't _see a diff-"

_Damn. She's figured it out..._

"You _bastard_! Stop trying to change the subject! I wanna know who the hell Anna is! Do you have some sort of sick obsession with her? If you don't spill it, this thing comes off," she barked, pointing to the body suit.

Jack shrugged, tucking the switchblade into a pocket. "Big deal. You take that off, you're got getting anything else to wear." He clicked his tongue as she glared at him. "I win either way..."

"You know who you are, what you do, and you don't give a shit. You unrepentant jackass," she muttered, turning away, sniffling.

"That just about sums it up," he said, pulling her down by her shoulders, and staring into her eyes with a fiery intensity. One hand gripped her chin. "You know," he muttered, drawing the knife from his pocket. "You're just _too serious, _sometimes."

Harley squirmed as the blade was dragged across her jaw. "I still say you're a_ sadist_," she shot back, turning her face away.

"I can deal with that," he said, turning her face back to his. "But you should take into careful consideration the fact that I just let you get away with that _without_ knocking your ass into next week."

She smirked, resting her head on his shoulder, running her fingers over his scars. "Is there... _anything else _I can get away with?"

"You're _so _damn predictable."

Harley gawked at him. "N-no I'm _not_! For your information, I'm _very_ unpredictable!"

"Really? he asked tauntingly. "_Prove it_."

"So, you _want_ me to be unpredictable?" When he grinned back at her, she noticed his expression change as she straddled his waist and sat down, her hands clamped to his shoulders.

Jack grimaced when Harley began to shift her hips; her mouth brushing against his chin before she traced his scars with her tongue. "You little bitch."

She grinned defiantly, pulling away, much to Jack's disappointment. "Take it off," she demanded, flinching away when he tried to pull her back.

"What?"

Harley wiped a finger across his face, leaving a trail in the white paint. "The paint. Take it off," she repeated. "You said you would, and you're not getting a thing from me until it's gone."

"When the hell did I say _that_?" he demanded, pulling her down by her shoulders. She opened her mouth to respond, but felt his mouth on hers, his tongue sliding easily between her teeth.

She pushed against his chest, a pained groan escaping his scarred lips when she pressed against the wounds. "Are you insane?" Harley paused, noting the sheer stupidity of her question. Of _course _he was insane...

Well, kind of... Maybe... A little...

He opened his mouth to respond, but she beat him to it.

"I take that back. You're sane, but you're just highly intelligent and organized. Instead of focusing on said intelligence, people focus on your appearance and claim that you're an insane schizo. You have a higher threshold for fear and pain, and don't process things the same way others do, and you seem to lack empathy and remorse. Not to mention a blatant disregard for laws and regulations."

Jack rolled his eyes.

_Did I miss something? When the hell did "Harleen" come back into this fucking picture? Maybe if I just sit here, she'll stop yammering and use that mouth of hers for something more important than..._

"Jack?"

_Or maybe not._

"Do you have _any _idea what I just said?" Harley demanded, glowering at him.

He hesitated for a minute before responding with, "What the hell are you, my fucking psychiatrist?"

"You stubborn bastard," she snapped irritably, climbing on top of him again and tugging at the buttons of his vest. "Take this damned thing off."

He smirked. "You know... a girl like _you_ needs to be ordered around... especially when you're used to getting your way _all_ the damn time."

"I _like _having my way. Especially when I get to knock a bit of sense into that head of yours."

Jack smirked at her. "You're the only one who can get away with saying that to me."

And, of course, that's _why _she said it.

"But I don't have time for your games right now, Har_ley. _There's still some _unfinished business _to take care of with a bratty little girl."

Harley cocked her head. "You mean that kid we grabbed from the apartment? What are you gonna do? Get her to confirm that Bruce Wayne really is Batman?"

The sadistic grin crossed his face again.

"Something like that."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

"I fucking _hate _this!"

Amy awoke with a start and turned to her "companion." As far as she knew, he had remained in that same corner all night.

"What?" she asked groggily, staring into the corner with eyes lidded with sleep. "I was dreaming about Pooh Bear..." He stood and approached the chair Amy was tied to. She shied away when he came near, but found that he was untying her. "What are you doing?"

The ropes hit the floor with a dull thud as he picked her up from the chair. "I'm not gonna let this happen," Alec said to himself. "I just can't do this." He carried Amy to the window, kicking the glass out before setting her on the ledge outside.

She turned to speak, but he pressed a gloved finger to her lips. "Don't ask any questions, understand? Just get out of here as fast as you can." He pointed out the window and to the right. "There's a fire escape. When you've reached the bottom, go straight to MCU. Don't let anyone stop you."

Amy was speechless. Why was he letting her escape? Wasn't he with the Joker? She didn't understand his sudden change in behavior.

"Why are you helping me? Won't you get in trouble?" she asked timidly

His eyes met hers. "This may sound kinda pathetic, but... you remind me of my little sister." He paused. "She was about your age when she died. There was an accident three years ago, and... she didn't make it. I guess that's why."

The dark eyes that bored into hers seemed to soften a bit before he turned his gaze to the floor. Amy was at a loss for words. What could she say?

He turned away. "Just go. I don't want you to be here when the Joker shows up."

"Will you at least tell me your name?" she pleaded, taking his hand.

The display of affection was strange to him, but he allowed it. "It's Alec," he said, turning away from her.

Amy squeezed his hand, and with a quiet "Thank you," she climbed back onto the ledge and out the window.

_She... really does look like Meghan._

Alec watched her until she was out of sight. He paced about the small room, knowing that the Joker would likely gut him for letting Amy get away. But he told himself that he'd rather die than watch an innocent little girl suffer.

The time had come for him to make a choice: Follow Amy and live in fear of the Joker, or face the bastard and die for some kid he barely even knew.

Alec spun away from the window when the door opened._ I'm screwed._

The Joker strode in, followed closely by Harley, who, to Alec, appeared to be a little over-stimulated. If something was going on between them, he wanted to be the _last _one to know about it.

"Where's the girl?"

Alec flinched. He should have left when he had the chance. "Sh-she's gone," he choked out, noting the bloodied knife in the Joker's hand.

_Oh, shit._

Harley wandered about, examining the room. "She's gone all right, but she didn't get out alone," she chimed, holding up the ropes that Alec had so carelessly left on the floor. "There's no way a toddler could have untied these," Harley said pointedly.

_I'm gonna die._

"So, _how _did you say she escaped?" the Joker asked.

Alec felt his body tense. He knew he was in deep shit. "I... I didn't."

Alec's gaze met his, and he realized that was staring into nothing. His eyes were void of all traces of humanity, filled only with dancing madness and the dark abyss from which chaos arose. The same evil that he'd once wanted to hold in his hands. A life like that wasn't worth it...

He couldn't be human.

Facing the Joker head-on was like provoking Hades himself. He was the Devil incarnate, the epitome of apocalyptic evil. And, staring into those eyes, he could almost see the plan materializing in the Joker's mind.

_Kill._

It was, after all, what he did best. Interrogation, torture, death, destruction. The man had the mind of a fucking military genius. He knew the weaknesses that lay beneath a man's façade; he knew how to exploit them; he knew how to get a person begging for mercy. He was the embodiment of Thanatos, the daemon personification of Death and Mortality. He prided himself upon conjuring the flames of hell, and entwining the world within the tantalizing darkness wherein anarchy lay.

This man was a fucking psychopath.

_Just die already, _the voice inside Alec's head hissed. _It won't hurt so much. Just a little bit. Then it'll be all over. That's what we want, isn't it? Why do we deserve to live when so many others have died? Do we really deserve to live, Alec? What are we gonna do? Hm? Are we gonna stand here and let the Devil finish the job, or are we gonna take this into our own hands? Are we gonna take the quick and easy way out or not? Hm? What's our decision? We can't just stand here, you stupid boy. No. We have to act. Do we really want to live in a world where everyone is always dying? _

_Don't we want to see Meghan again? She's waited so long for us. She's waiting for us to come see her. We want to see her, don't we? Meghan wants to see us. She misses us, Alec. It hurts her to be away from us for so long. What about the others? Alastor? Jane? We remember them, don't we? They died with Ra's, they did. They're calling us. They want us to come home. Please, Alec. Let's go home. We need to see them again. We need to be a family again. So, please... just... die!_

"Alec!"

He looked out the shattered window and saw Amy standing on the fire escape, her hand outstretched towards him.

"Amy? What the hell are you doing? I told you to leave, dammit!"

The Joker snickered. "Well, that was easy."

"Amy, leave! Go now!" Alec demanded, glowering at her. "Get out of here!"

But Amy narrowed her eyes at him. "No! I won't leave without you! I can't leave you here! Alec, please! Please, come with...!" She stopped short, her voice drowned out by the thunderous roar of a gunshot; she collapsed onto the fire escape with a thud_, _blood dripping from her unmoving body.

Alec turned back to the Joker, who had a gun pointed at Amy.

"You fucking bastard! How could you do this?" Alec cried, grabbing the Joker by the shirt.

The madman snickered. "Easy. Point the gun and pull the trigger."

Alec shoved him to the floor, wrapping his hands around the man's throat.

"Harley, get the girl."

The woman did as she was told and climbed out the shattered window.

"No! You leave her alone!" Alec screamed. "She's a child! She hasn't done anything wrong!"

The Joker sighed and whistled, ushering two thugs into the room. The men dragged Alec away from their boss, and took him out into the hall to learn a little etiquette.

"It's nothing new," the Joker muttered, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. "It's _always _about sending a message. You'll see..."

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

"Is she doing any better, sir?" Alfred asked as Bruce trudged out of the bedroom, closing the door silently behind himself.

He shook his head. "Not really. She just keeps crying. The Joker must have completely traumatized her to get such a reaction from a woman like Anna. It takes a lot to bring her down."

"I understand what you mean, sir," the butler said, following Bruce into the study. "If you don't mind my saying, your mother was very much like Ms. Sanders."

Bruce smirked and pulled a book off the shelf at random. "She's not a complicated woman, Alfred. She's just... headstrong. I guess that's why her reactions took me by surprise. Anna's never caved. At least, not like this."

"Well, sir, she _was _in a rather turbulent situation with that man. It's no wonder that she's withdrawn into her shell."

"I know that, Alfred. But it was... much more complicated than just a run-in with the Joker. There are... things about him that only she knows; things that only she can tell us. Nobody else has delved that deep into the mysteries surrounding him. Anna's the only one."

"If..." Alfred started, but the ringing of the phone silenced him.

Bruce chuckled. "I've got it," he said, picking up the phone from his desk. "Wayne Manor," he said into the receiver.

There were at least two voices on the other end of the line; one timid and fearful and the other dark and demanding.

"Hello?"

A voice finally came through.

"Uncle Bruce?"

It was Amy.

Bruce sped back to Anna's room, taking the phone with him. The heavy doors slammed behind him as he entered the room, scaring the shit out of Anna.

The frightened expression on his face was enough to get Anna to sit up. The gauze taped to her left cheek was soaked through with blood. The Joker's fucking handiwork lay beneath.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong, Bruce?"

Bruce covered the receiver with a hand and whispered, "It's Amy.

Anna's eyes widened and she lunged for the phone, seizing it from Bruce's hand.

"Amy? Amy, honey, it's Mommy. Amy, are you there? Please, speak to me. Amy? Amy, it's Mommy. Talk to me honey, please?"

"M-mommy?"

Anna sighed. "Oh, thank God, you're all right. I've been so worried. Amy, do you know where you are? Is there anyone there who can help you?"

"Mommy. I-I'm scared. I don't want him to hurt me, Mommy. He scares me. Please, Mommy... please, help me. I'm so scared. He took Alec away... and I'm all alone. Please... please, help me... I don't wanna..."

The sickening voice of Gotham's mass-murdering psychopath cut through.

"How touching. Are we feeling more... cooperative now, Anna?"

"You bastard. If you've hurt her, I'll...!"

"You'll what?" he chuckled. "Kill me? I seriously doubt that. You couldn't bring yourself to kill me before, so what makes you think you can do it now? I don't want there to be any hard feelings between us, Anna, so, I'll give her back."

Was he being serious? He'd hand Amy over without any conditions? Anna thought on it for a moment. No. Things were never that simple. Not with Jack. He always had to make it a game of some sort.

"No. No, you won't, Jack," she hissed. "I know you're up to something."

"What?" The feigned emotions in his voice were really pissing her off. "Don't you trust me, Anna?"

"No, you sick bastard. I _don't _trust you. You kidnapped my daughter, and then you tried to kill me. What the fuck makes you think I'd trust you?"

"That's cold, Anna. But if you wanna play hard, then fine. I'll give her back to you tonight. Be at the old man's place by midnight. Oh, and bring dear old Bruce with you. Without his mask. No gadgets and no mask. Or there's no deal."

The old man's place. She had it all figured out. His true intentions were clear: He wanted to pay their bastard father a little visit.

Richard Napier.

"All right, fine. We'll be there. But I want my daughter back. And if I don't get her... I swear, I'll fucking kill you, Jack," Anna hissed.

She could almost see the grin on his face.

"Midnight, Anna."

* * *

Finis.


	12. Hysteria

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 12: **Hysteria

**A/N: **Dedicated to **MK08 **for all of her kind words and support.

**Song: **_Haunted _by _Disturbed_

* * *

"You just can't help yourself, can you? You've always gotta have the last laugh." Harley handed a sobbing Amy to one of the thugs, giving the man a sharp look that promised a thrashing if he did anything to the poor child. "You're sick."

"That's why they call me the Joker. I _always _get the last laugh."

The arrogance. "Uh-_huh... _Of course you do."

_Go on,_ she thought. _You finally know what you want, don't you? Then go for it! What's the worst he could do? Kill you? Please. He couldn't bring himself to kill his little Harley. You're too important to him. He's in a damn good mood, so get your ass moving and take advantage of it!_

She tried to fight back the urge. Watching as he stared out the shattered window into the city of perpetual insomnia he had created; into the dark abyss where chaos now reigned supreme.

He hated the world and the so-called "order" by which society resided. The arrogant fools who tried in vain to change the balance of things. But he'd show them. In the end, when the world was turned to dust by his hand, the mindless fools of society would devour each other in a desperate need to survive.

And they would all fail.

He would be the victor. He would watch as they gave in to the ravenous hunger that resided within. For him, there is nothing but this. There was no art opening, there was no benefit. There was chaos and nothing else.

He was a master in the art of destruction. A God among insects; the Devil incarnate; an agent of chaos. He knew of all the psychobabble about civilization. And in his eyes, it was all a big fucking _joke._

Sickening.

He met her gaze, that twisted grin tugging at his lips. He didn't speak at first, just stood there, devouring her with the entirety of his dark eyes. She looked away, startled by the chaos that surrounded him like stale mists. The atmosphere of the room was terribly oppressive, and she felt as if, at any given moment, he would strike, and all would be lost before she could even draw a breath.

Harley flinched as he moved, circling behind her, holding the flat of the blade against her lip. His voice was sickly sweet as if he had read her thoughts. "Now, you know what you _want_." He hissed the last word into her ear almost seductively, trailing his knife over her collarbone, the tip of the blade dipping into her skin as he bared his teeth and nipped savagely at her ear.

Harley knew what he was implying, but there was a catch: His ideals came first, and then she could have all the bittersweet playtime she wanted.

Sometimes you've gotta _run_ before you can _walk._

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

In complete honesty, this whole damn situation had Bruce on the fucking edge. He couldn't very well go against the Joker's terms, seeing how he would put both Anna and Amy in danger if he did. But now, right at this very moment, there was a psychotic murderer running around, probably waiting to douse the city in flames. He was Gotham's "Dark Knight" and Joker was the "Agent of Chaos." Things would never be peaceful in Gotham with said chaos running amok, that much was certain.

In the end, the battle for "Gotham's Soul" would be long and bloody.

But the Joker had already made himself clear: "I don't wanna kill you! What would I do without you? Go back to ripping off mob dealers? No. No... no. No, you... You complete me." As twisted as the words sounded, Bruce knew better. To a man like the Joker, this was just another part of the game.

And he, the Batman, was just another piece to be manipulated and destroyed.

"This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You... truly are... incorruptible, aren't you? Hm? You won't kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I won't kill you because... you're just_ too much fun_!"

He was right. Bruce _wouldn't _kill him to satisfy his self-righteousness. That wasn't what he did. He had set the guidelines for himself when he took up his position as Batman years earlier. And he had promised that he would never take the life of another.

The Joker's main focus, aside from Batman, was to send the world up in flames. The thought of being forced to watch his loved ones as they were engulfed in flames was almost enough to drive him over the edge of reason.

If he caved now, when things were at their worst, he would be no better than the criminals he was trying to stop.

And that was what the Joker wanted most. To corrupt the incorruptible.

He had already proven his theory to be fact through Harvey Dent. He had successfully shown Bruce that even those who were seemingly incorruptible would fall, if one used the proper leverage.

And if he caved, as Harvey had, then the Joker would have won. He would have successfully corrupted the "incorruptible" Batman. After Harvey's untimely death, Bruce couldn't afford to take any more chances. He was the only one left. The only man capable of being the "hero" of Gotham, whether the people believed in him or not.

This was his only chance.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

He didn't care that it was well past midnight. It wasn't like he had to be anywhere in the morning, anyway. It wasn't like anybody was going to rock up on his doorstep asking if he'd like a job. He didn't need one, anyway. After fifteen years in the army, one got fed up of being around other people.

Well, at least _he_ did.

In actuality, he wasn't a "people person." There wasn't any point in associating with people once one had accomplished what one needed to in life. People were around to provide jobs and shit. He didn't really give a damn what they did, so long as they left him the hell alone.

In all honesty, he hadn't always been so cold-hearted. He'd been married once, to a truly marvelous woman by the name of Emiline Lee. She'd longed to have a family of her own for years, but he hadn't been ready for the responsibility of raising children. He'd never meant to knock her up, but it had just happened without warning. As much as he wanted to forget, he couldn't. He would never be able to forget the day that she had told him that she was expecting. The child had been a beautiful baby girl, Anna Michelle, who had been named for her late grandmother.

Almost as quickly as their daughter had come, their son arrived three years later.

Emiline had left the child's name to him, but he didn't know the first thing about naming a child, much less a frighteningly silent infant. The first thing that had popped into his head had been his late brother's name. Jack Edwin. It wasn't the most interesting name, but it seemed to fit fit.

The first few years of raising a family had been much more pleasant than he had previously thought. Strangely, the craving for that familiar old "antidote" started acting up again every time he looked at his son. He'd told himself that he didn't need it. But the more he thought about it, the closer he came to giving in to the temptation, until he finally crashed.

He hadn't meant to get smashed after work that first night. It had just happened. Emiline must have known that he was drunk that night, since she had rushed the kids, who had been nine and six at the time, upstairs to their rooms when he finally got the front door open.

For the next nine years, there had been so many nights that he'd come home drunk. So many nights that he'd lost his temper, not only frightening his wife and kids, but himself as well. So many nights where he could barely remember a thing, much less walking in the door after a trip to the bar.

He stared blankly at the television screen, seemingly too drunk to notice the late-night report on a sighting of Gotham's local terrorist, the Joker.

_Why won't these visions disappear?_

The reason was unknown, but since the day that the Joker had shown up in Gotham, he couldn't keep those vicious memories out of his head. Memories of the terrible things he had done that night. The night he had killed his wife, and tried to kill his son.

Something seemed very familiar about the painted terrorist that ran amok throughout the streets of Gotham, but he couldn't figure out why. He couldn't help feeling that he had some sort of connection to the man. Something bound them together; something that he was unable to see.

_Why is he the one I always see...? _

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

"Anna, shouldn't we think about this first?" Bruce grabbed her arm as she tried to run to the door. He held her at arms length, meeting her angry gaze. She wasn't fooling him with that look. Her eyes were glazed over and wet, and he knew she had been crying.

She placed her hands against his chest, pushing herself out of his reach. "No, Bruce," she snapped. "I _don't _want to think about this, because..." Anna backed herself up against the door, grasping for the handle as Bruce approached.

"Anna..."

"There's nothing to think about! Don't you understand? This is the _only _way! When Amy was taken from me, I swore that if I ever had even the slightest chance of saving her... I would take it," she barked. "_Don't _get in my way."

Bruce sighed. It was true that he didn't understand the Joker the way she did, but he wasn't about to let her leave on some suicide mission to save her child. It didn't matter how much she would hate him, he wouldn't allow her to get herself killed. He'd seen enough innocent people torched, beaten, and even mutilated across Gotham, and the last thing he wanted was for Anna to be added to the body count.

"I may not understand him the way that you do," Bruce said gently. "But... I know that he's not gonna just let you walk away with Amy! You haven't _seen _the people he's killed, Anna. You don't have to choose between lives. And I hope you never will..."

"Shut _up_! You have no _idea _what I saw that night, so don't you dare lecture me! Were you _there_ when those people were burned? Were you _there_ when they were beaten or mutilated? Were you? You act like you know everything, but you don't! You didn't come home and see your mother's corpse on the kitchen floor... Or watch as your brother slipped into insanity... So don't talk to me about the 'horrors' you've seen, Bruce...! Don't."

She was right. What right _did_ he have to talk to her about such things? She had seen far more horrific and terrifying things than anything he could ever _imagine_.

And they both knew it.

He took a step towards her. "Anna, please..."

"Stay back," she breathed, eyes wide. "Stay back! _Keep away from me_!" she screamed as she ran out the door, slamming it before Bruce could even take another step.

He hung his head shamefully. "Damn... I should have let her be..."

But it was too late. She was gone, and the only thing he could do to save her, was follow.

**6 - 7 - 6 - 7**

One who was far more practiced in deception would have been able to more fully control their emotions, but Harley clearly didn't fall into that category. Her thoughts were practically stamped on her face, the way her eyes changed with her mood. And, to make matters worse, she was shaking like a leaf caught in a cold September breeze.

_Well, damn._

Even in the dark, he could see the horrified expression she wore as she tried to curl herself into a tight ball. What good was she to him if she couldn't at least _try _not to hyperventilate?

He leaned against the car door, glancing at the shuddering woman sitting in the back seat. "Maybe you should wait here," he suggested, watching her eyes widen. She clearly didn't want to be left alone, as she crawled over the seat and out the open window, clinging to his coat like a frightened child. "What the fuck are you afraid of, anyway? It's not like something's gonna get you," he muttered darkly as the goons arrived with the van.

Harley scowled. "I already _told_ you that I didn't _want _to come! But do you listen to me? Of course not! You always gotta have the last laugh or whatever the hell you wanna call it! I don't understand why you have to be so damn stubborn all the damn time! You drive me crazy!"

Jack smirked, clearly getting a kick out of her tantrum. "Hey, it's not my fault I have that affect on people. If you're gonna blame anyone," he paused, pointing to the house across the street, "then it's gonna be the old man. He started it," he laughed, using a child's most prominent excuse.

The goons shuffled out of the van, two of them carrying various weapons and explosives while the third held a hand over the mouth of the sobbing, thrashing five-year-old.

It was obvious that Amy wanted nothing more than to escape, even die, though she didn't know what death really was. She wanted to run and hide where no one could ever find her. Tears from her blue eyes ran down her little cheeks. She sniffled and hiccuped, wondering if her mother, Bruce, or even Batman would save her.

She flinched when the Joker shot that manic grin at her as he pointed the goons to their target. Amy watched as the house drew closer, and she couldn't help but wonder why she had to be there, too.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Harley who looked just as upset as Amy felt. She wondered what had caused the woman's attitude to change so suddenly. Her usually calm and fearless expression had been replaced by one of mute, indescribable horror. Her skin tone had even paled in comparison to the paint that covered the Joker's face.

"I... I don't wanna do this..." she murmered with a tremor in her voice. "I don't wanna do this, Jack... I don't wanna be here...!"

Although this woman had helped kidnap her, Amy couldn't help but feel some sympathy for her. The fright in her voice sent chills down Amy's spine, and she knew that something horrible was about to happen. Amy turned her eyes forward, and saw that they were standing on the lawn in front of someone's large living room window.

The Joker sighed in frustration. "C'mon, it's not gonna be that bad. Nothing's gonna happen until Anna shows with her precious man, anyway. So just relax. You're really stressing me out."

The man who was holding Amy shifted slightly, placing her on the ground as one of the other men tied a cloth around her mouth. She had no idea what they were doing until she saw them draw the guns from their coats. Amy flinched, squeezing her eyes shut as she waited for the impact of the bullets against her little body.

The pain never came, and the sound of shattering glass filled her ears instead. She cracked her eyes open just as the man plucked her gently from the ground, holding her securely in his tight grip as he climbed into the house through the remains of the demolished window.

Amy took in her surroundings, noting that the only sound in the house, besides the crunching of glass against the carpet, came from a large television that sat in the corner of the next room, across from an older man in a recliner by the fireplace. The loud boom of the violent gunfire wracked her head, and she could only watch as the two other goons pried the man from his chair, forcing him onto his knees.

Although she didn't see him, Amy knew that the Joker had that sickening grin on his face as the trembling man spoke. "Who... who the hell are you people? What could you possibly want with me? I don't have anything you want! Just let me go!"

The Joker snickered. "Let you go? Now why would I do that when the party's just starting?"

Amy let out a muffled scream as his hand shot to the quivering man's throat. Even in the dark, she could see the glint of the knife, eager to sever flesh and bask in the iron tang of blood.

"There's nothing to be afraid of... if you cooperate." The Joker held the knife to the man's throat, that manic fire in his eyes. "We're gonna play a little game... And your fate rests solely on your shoulders, so I'd be pretty damn honest, if I were you."

* * *

Finis.


	13. Far From Over

**Disclaimer: **All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in _The Dark Knight_. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

**Chapter 13: **Far From Over

**A/N: **Final chapter before we move on to _Nothing Left._

**Song: **_I Will Not Bow _by _Breaking Benjamin_

* * *

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Amy heard the man say. "I haven't done anything! Please, let me go!"

The Joker sighed, tossing his switchblade between his hands. "You really don't know who I am, do you?" he laughed. "But that doesn't surprise me, really. After all, you never could keep your head on straight after drowning yourself at the bar. But," he looked the man in the eye, "you sure as hell _look_ sober... Then again, looks _can_ be deceiving..."

"Don't do it!"

Amy's little head turned toward the broken window where she saw Harley, eyes manic, face paler than the moon. Swiftly, Harley jumped through the broken window, slicing herself on the shards of broken glass as she ran straight into the Joker, tears in her eyes. Clearly, he didn't want to be bothered, but Harley didn't seem to notice. She was in a world of her own now. A world where fear and anxiety had set in, overcoming her manic obsession and devotion to the Joker.

"You can't do it!" she screamed, clinging to his arm. "You can't leave me alone! He'll come... He _always_ comes!"

With an irritated grimace, the Joker rolled his eyes, pushing Harley toward one of his goons. "Not now," he snapped bitterly. "Can't you see I'm busy? And Batman's not going to kill you, Harley, so relax."

"Don't do this!" she shrieked, elbowing the goon in the crotch as he tried to lift her off the floor. "You can't keep leaving me behind! I won't stand for it!" Harley's breathing grew ragged, and she clung desperately to the Joker. "You... You're going to leave me again, aren't you? That was your plan all along... Have your way with me before throwing me to the dogs! Well, I won't have it, I tell you! I won't!"

Without a word, the Joker gave Harley a good smack across the face that sent her tumbling to the floor. "It's so hard to find good help these days," he muttered to no one in particular. "Now... Where were we? Oh, yes..." He grinned that manic grin, and pressed the blade of his knife to the trembling man's throat. "Now, it you know what's good for you, you'll answer all my questions honestly. Got it?"

"If you know what's good for _you_, you'll drop the tough guy act and back away," a voice said from the window.

Amy turned, eyes wide. She knew that voice. "Mmmph!" she mumbled through the cloth.

The Joker sighed in disbelief. "How many times do we have to go through this, Anna?" he sighed, turning his attention to Amy. "I made my demands perfectly clear, did I not? And, once again, you fail to uphold your end of the bargain."

"Keep your hands off her, Jack. Or I swear, I'll kill you where you stand," Anna hissed, grabbing a shard of glass from the floor.

The Joker laughed. "You're bluffing, right? Are you really prepared to kill _me,_ your own flesh and blood, right here in front of your daughter? Don't you think that's a bit harsh? I mean, really. Think of the side effects this'll have on her little mind," he said, patting Amy's head. "You might just end up creating another psychopath... just like he did." The Joker pointed at the trembling man on the floor.

Anna's eyes widened in shock. "Oh, damn," she said. "Dad?"

The man looked up at her, tears in his eyes. "A-Anna?" He turned to the Joker, eyes growing wide with fear. "And... Oh, no... No, no...! It's impossible!" he shrieked. "You can't be him, you just can't! It's just not possible!"

The Joker grinned. "Oh, it's possible, old boy. And now that you know who I really am, you must have figured out why I'm here."

Richard Napier clamped his eyes shut, trying to convince himself that he was trapped in a nightmare. "No..." he muttered. "No... This can't be... This isn't real...!"

"Oh, it's real," the Joker said with a sneer, looking Richard in the eye. "And I'm about to show you... just how real it is. Now, do you recall a certain night, a little more than a decade ago, in which you brutally murdered your wife? Hmm?"

Richard nodded, his blood running cold. He knew that, if this psychopath truly was his son, his life would end this very night. He clamped his eyes shut in silent prayer, knowing damn well that he didn't deserve any mercy, not even from God. After all, he'd done a terrible thing that night, not only to himself, but to his family. Because of him... the Joker had been born. A demon in the dark of night, born from the shadow of vengeance, hatred... and blood.

"Yes..." Richard choked out. "Yes..."

"Jack, leave him alone!" Anna said, shoving her brother away and stepping between them. On the inside, Anna was truly petrified of the man who stood before her. But, deep in her heart, she truly loved her father; loved him more than she feared her lunatic brother. Even if he had destroyed their family in a single night. For a few good years, he'd been the father she had adored and admired. And that, she supposed, was enough.

The Joker rolled his eyes at her, wrapping a hand around her throat. "I'll give you one last chance, Anna," he said. "Stay out of my way, or watch your precious little angel drown in a sea of blood. It's your choice."

Anna clenched her fists, knowing that her life, and the life of her daughter, were in the hands of a madman. Gathering up what courage she had left, Anna gave the Joker a good kick in the gut, standing over him as he hit the floor. "My answer is no, you bastard!"

"Let me handle this."

Anna turned to see Bruce standing beside her, Amy in his arms. "How did you...?"

He grinned. "It's not that hard, Anna," he said, handing Amy to her. "Smash a couple of heads together, and they're out cold." He gestured to the unconscious goons on the floor behind him.

"So you _did_ bring the Batman," the Joker cackled, getting to his feet. "And I never would have guessed that Bruce Wayne, of all people, was the man behind the mask. I have to say... I'm a little more than shocked. Who the hell am I kidding? It was painfully obvious when the two of you started spending 'quality time' together."

Bruce stepped in front of Anna, staring into the Joker's cold eyes. "I came on my own," he said flatly. "I couldn't very well let you kill the woman I love, no matter what relation she is to you."

Anna was shocked. _Did... Did he just say "love?" _she thought. _Did he just say... he loves me?_

The Joker's eyes widened slightly as he looked at Anna. "You... and her?" he said, taking it all in. "You're kidding, right? I mean, isn't it enough that her precious Daniel was taken away? You really want to put her through all that _again_? You're _heartless,_ Bruce," he chuckled. "Although, I guess I should have seen this coming. I mean, it only makes sense when you really think about it. You lost Rachel, and she lost Daniel, so I suppose it's only _natural_ for you two to... attract each other."

Bruce's eyes flared with rage at the mention of Rachel's name, but the Joker, noting the ferocity of the other man's gaze, took a few steps back. "And this one here," he said, glancing down at Harley, "why, she's gone crazy for me. Funny, isn't it?" he said, throwing Harley over his shoulder as he backed toward the window. "What a bomb on a ferry can do to a woman. It must've been a stroke of luck that she was one of my participants that night."

Reaching into his coat pocket, the Joker withdrew a smoke bomb. "It's been fun, boys and girls," he smirked. "But I'm afraid time's... run out." With that, the smoke bomb exploded, obscuring the Joker and Harley from sight as they made their escape.

"But mark my words, Batman," Bruce heard him say. "This is far from over."

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Head on over to _Nothing Left _for the final 13 chapters. They'll be updated gradually.


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